


Run Rabbit Run

by Zaxal



Category: Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pre-Canon, Serial Killers, The Most Dangerous Game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 71,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaxal/pseuds/Zaxal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When strange envelopes are delivered to Shawn and Carlton with instructions and threats, they have no choice but to run for their lives. But trusting a stranger to watch their backs is easier said than done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is still a work in progress. I'll work on it when I can, but no promises as to when I'll update next.  
> \- This AU takes place years pre-canon, so the characters are aged down. Shawn is 18, which makes Carlton 27 (in case you were wondering).  
> \- The story is Carlton/Shawn over all, but I haven't tagged all of the relationships and characters I anticipate happening along the way mostly because I'm still not entirely sure how I'm going to work it. So if anyone has a character they really want to see, I'm open to suggestions!  
> \- I think that's it for now. Enjoy!

He was in a bar in South Dakota a few miles out from the outskirts of Sioux Falls. It was a well-kept secret, the bar stools and tables populated without being crowded, the inhabitants shooting knowing looks at each other. Secret smiles and friendly interruptions of conversations they weren't a part of. His kind of place. Familiar without closeness. Absolutely perfect.

The bartender asked to see his ID, and he shrugged with a good-natured smile, slipping out the fake he had been carrying with him since he was 16. It's one of the few things he ever bought with his own money and one of the few lies he ever successfully kept from his fath- from Henry.

Beer in hand, he found one of the bar stools without an occupant and perched, getting a good look around the room. He couldn't be too careful, no matter how many miles he'd put between himself and Santa Barbara. Shawn glanced around the room nervously, searching for anyone who might be watching him too intently and realized with a grin that they weren't. There were looks, yes, but he was a stranger, he was obviously a teenager no matter that his ID said he was 23, and yet he was totally at home in this place that should have been like a minefield.

No one called him on it. No one had the entire trip, much to his surprise.

Then again, he supposed with a small twitch of his lips, no one had been trained to look like he had either. None of them could see the layers on each other that you could peel away one at a time and learn everything you needed to know. He sometimes forgot that no one saw things the way he did.

It was a gift and a curse. Mostly a curse because he could recount every single useless thing Henry had ever pounded into his head, and he could remember his childhood slipping by him one lesson at a time. It was a gift, every now and then, for finding people like him. People who didn't quite belong. Who could give him what he needed.

Like the guy sitting at the far table alone, beer bottle in hand as he stared down at the table. Obviously lonely – the pale band on his left hand indicating either a recent divorce or separation. No one had been paying him any attention, so he was obviously an outsider like Shawn. He looked worn down, scowly frown, and Shawn knew the exact remedy for forgetting one's problems for the night.

And he was guaranteed to have no strings attached. Because, come morning, he'd be back on his motorcycle and running like hell was on his heels.

"Hey there," Shawn said, smile in place, having sauntered unnoticed across the bar.

The man looked up at him, bright blue eyes freezing him like ice. "Turn around and go back where you came from."

"No can do," Shawn replied brightly. "Someone's in my seat." He could see it in the mirror hanging on the wall. He hoped the small trick might impress, but the man's expression only soured.

"Then find somewhere else."

Shawn leaned over the nearest chair, emphasizing the lean flexibility of his body, subtly suggesting and hoping the other would take notice. He hadn't been laid in a few days, and this guy was basically perfect. Someone who would regret it, would kick him out the door the next morning without so much as a second thought. Exactly what he needed. Everything was so much easier when no one asked questions.

He at least had the stranger curious – the eyes moved down, observed the small shifts of his body, and Shawn knew the fish was thinking of getting a nibble at the bait. And he was suddenly grateful for the circumstances that had brought him to a bar far away from home. He had clearly been spending too much time around Henry if he was thinking of picking up a roughly decade-older guy in fishing metaphors.

"Go bother someone else," he repeated, forcing his eyes back up to Shawn's face.

Shawn sighed and pulled out the chair nearest him, taking a seat even though the stranger glared at him. "Look. Not gonna mince words. I'm lonely. Not from around these parts, and you aren't either. We both need company, and we're not going to get it from any of them." He pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb. "So let's get to know each other, yeah?"

Still tensed, the other man slowly conceded. "Fine. Who are you?"

"Shawn." He had thought about using an alias, but what point was there? It wouldn't change anything. The multitude of credit cards weren't in his name anyway, so if he was being followed by a paper trail, it wouldn't matter. After a too-long silence, Shawn rolled his eyes. "And you are?"

"Booker," he answered, slightly hesitant. Probably an alias. Shawn tensed without meaning to before forcing himself to relax, keep his lazy, half-seductive smile.

"That's a new one." Wouldn't it make more sense to pick something generic? Something that could hide you as one in millions as you slipped off again? John Schmidt. They – whoever they were for Booker and, coincidentally, for him – would never find John Schmidt if he wanted to disappear.

"My mother had an odd taste in names." Booker shrugged and downed his bottle. When he lifted his arm, Shawn saw a suspicious strap of leather and immediately forced his smile wider. He hadn't seen the gun, but he had spent enough time at the station to know what that particular sight meant. His new friend was packing heat. Awesome. Getting Booker out of his clothes immediately became a higher priority.

Having a gun would make Shawn feel so much better. 

"Aren't you a little young to be in a bar?" Booker's voice had that familiar edge to it that Shawn knew too well. It said that there were rules that were meant to be followed, that Shawn should know and adhere to. He hated that tone of voice with everything in him.

"I'm 23," Shawn lied easily. "I know, I look like I'm fresh off the school bus, but what can you do? Don't fight good genetics, y'know?" He grinned, and Booker frowned, and Shawn supposed that was the way it was going to be.

"I wouldn't know."

Shawn took the shot, gave Booker an appraising look. "Mm. Wouldn't you?"

Pink flushed into pale cheeks, and his glare got stronger. "If-" He took a breath and kept himself steady, his emotions kept in careful check. "If you think I'm... that way, you're nuts."

Shawn shrugged and allowed himself a moment of honesty. "I think you're lonely and desperate. Same as me."

"You're wrong," Booker hissed. "So go home."

"Can't." Shawn downed the last of his drink and pushed it away from him. "Home's a long ways away from here, and I can't go back."

Booker was tense, his jaw clenched as he asked, "Where are you from?"

"California." Booker's face tightened. "City called Santa Barbara." His expression shifted towards downright hostile before being reined carefully in. After a deep breath, he was back to being his regular, scowling self.

"Oh, really?" It was flat, almost hostile, threatening, and Shawn wondered – not for the first time, either – if he was running away from more than the person chasing him. If there were others. His stomach tied into a knot, and he immediately wished for a quick exit. "I've got family out that way."

"Yeah?" Shawn's voice felt small.

"Yeah." Booker sat his bottle down and peered at Shawn meaningfully. "They raise rabbits."

Shawn felt like he'd been punched in the gut, all the air rushing out of his body. He tried not to look distressed, frightened, and he hoped to god that Booker or whatever the hell his name was would buy it long enough for him to get away. "Wow. That's an interesting... um. Hobby." He paused, worked hard to keep his expression neutral. After the brief silence, he spoke, and he could hear the panic in his voice, "I should – ah – I need to..." He craned his head around, looked towards the restroom sign. "I'll be back," he lied and pushed himself to his feet, knowing it was obvious but needing to get away now.

God only knew why the hunter had been toying with him for as long as he had, but Shawn was certain that was what had been going on. He'd walked into the jaws of the predator, had been flirting for Christ's sakes, and he needed to get away now.

He barely had time to notice the empty bathroom had no windows before the door creaked open behind him. Shawn whirled around and found Booker standing there, his worn jacket pushed to the side as he reached for the gun in the holster under his arm.

Shawn froze, stared at Booker as the terror flowed like ice through him. "Please. No."

Booker didn't answer, only flipped the lock on the bathroom door and started walking towards Shawn. "You are going to tell me _exactly_ who you are and what you're doing here and what you want with me." Shawn pressed back against the far wall, unable to suppress the whimper in his throat as Booker crowded his space and pressed the gun intimately against his jaw. "And if you don't. Or if you lie. I'll blow your fucking head off."

"I'm running," Shawn admitted. "I'm running away from something and I don't know what exactly. I just know that I have to keep going and I'm only safe while the sun is down because this is some fucking game to someone and-" He stammered, "And dude, I just wanted to get laid and maybe take some money and your gun to keep me safe from whatever's out there hunting me."

"Why Santa Barbara?"

"It's my home. I grew up there," he could hear his voice getting higher and more desperate. "Please don't kill me."

Booker's eyes narrowed, and he contemplated Shawn for far longer than Shawn was comfortable with. "Turn around, hands on the wall."

Shawn obeyed and didn't resist as Booker kicked his legs apart. He heard him slip the gun back into the holster before hands were running over his body in a quick but thorough frisk. He found the Swiss Army knife in Shawn's back pocket and his wallet, but he didn't take either away.

Booker's voice hissed low and quiet in his ear, "What are you?"

Shawn grasped for the first answer he could think of: "A rabbit." His voice shook with fear.

Booker released a breath he had apparently been holding and he stepped away. Shawn closed his eyes, pleading silently that he wasn't about to get a bullet in the back of his head. "Hey. Look at me."

Shawn slowly turned his head and then his body followed after a slow nod from Booker. "Please don't kill me," Shawn repeated, not feeling safer at all due to the intense frown on Booker's face.

"Calm down. I'm not going to kill you." Shawn felt the tension rush out of his body, but before he'd done more than mutter a 'thank you', Booker added, "Not yet. But if you cross me or try any funny business, I will shoot you. Repeatedly. Do as I tell you, and you'll be fine."

Shawn swallowed nervously and nodded, understanding that he didn't really have a choice. He lowered his eyes, trying to see harmless. "Look at me." Shawn slowly dragged his eyes up. Booker's stern expression had softened just enough for him to notice. "Shawn, is it?" Shawn nodded. "Well, Shawn." He held out his hand, an offering of peace. Shawn eyed it warily, brain whirling madly to try and figure out what Booker's game was. "We're in the same boat."

"You're not one of them?"

"No." He shook his head. "I'm not. I'm running. Same as you." His hand didn't waver or draw away. "I want to get out of this alive, and I'm sure you do too. And either we can go our separate ways alone or we can try and have someone watching our backs. Your choice."

Shawn didn't take long to consider. He pressed his hand into the rough, callused offering and gave him a firm handshake. Either things could work out and he wouldn't have to be running alone, or they wouldn't and he could maybe still get the gun. "Shawn Spencer."

"Carlton Lassiter. We need to get the hell out of here."


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken him threatening to walk away and leave him where he was before Shawn agreed to leave his motorcycle behind. He sold it to some guy in the bar after an impromptu auction for several hundred dollars, tossed the keys to him, and followed Carlton out to his car with his duffel bag swung over his shoulder. Whatever the kid had left in the world was in that bag, whatever he could get in 24 hours and shove into a bag that wouldn't slow him down.

Carlton wondered dimly what the kid's goodbyes had been like. His own had been brief, more like cutting ties than saying goodbye. And hadn't Victoria looked relieved as he'd packed his suitcase, telling her he was leaving for good? He'd even slammed the ring down on the bed they shared, left it there. Hoping against hope that maybe she'd look at it someday and remember him fondly.

The only people he'd had long talks with were Hank who had taken up most of his last afternoon as he explained that he had to leave and get away as soon as he could because being in Santa Barbara was starting to drive him out of his mind and Fenich who had protested his resignation for almost two hours before Carlton had him thoroughly convinced that he was done protecting people who clearly didn't deserve it.

Those had been the most tiring and depressing conversations of his life, and then he'd had to run away, unable to say he was sorry, unable to stop and take it all back. No matter how badly he wanted to.

"You always so quiet when you're driving?" Shawn had been looking between him and the radio like the silence was killing him. Carlton shrugged and focused on the road. "You're from Santa Barbara too."

"Yep. Been running for about a week now."

"Since last Thursday?" Carlton spared a look over at him and nodded. Shawn frowned and settled back, obviously thinking. "Think we were picked out by the same people?"

"No." Carlton knew they weren't. "The people who play this sort of game don't pick out multiple targets. The fact we ran in the same direction is odd. If one person did, and we'd gone off in different directions, then they'd have to choose who to chase. We're probably looking at two people who know each other and are having some sort of..." He scowled and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Some sort of competition."

"You know about them?" Shawn leaned forward, interested, and Carlton noticed that he wasn't wearing his seatbelt. He took a long breath and chose not to fight it. Not yet. "How?"

Carlton shrugged. It had been a risk – was a risk, really, every time he chose to take it. "I was contacted. The stipulations state we can't contact anyone from our old lives, but this guy found me. He somehow knows a hell of a lot more about this than I do, and I'm trusting him for whatever it's worth."

"You shouldn't," Shawn said as he leaned back in the seat, propping his feet up on Carlton's dashboard. "He's probably your guy. Playing games with you."

"I don't think so. You talk to this guy for five minutes, and I guarantee you won't think he's chasing anyone anywhere." Carlton flipped on the cruise control and glanced at the digital clock. 1:37. He hadn't had a decent sleep in two days, and it was starting to wear him down. But there was no point in paying for a motel just for a few hours of sleep. The moment the sun came up, they were free game, and he had no way of knowing how much space they had put between them and their pursuers.

"Didn't know you could judge someone's murderous intent just from their voice."

"Really?" Carlton glanced at him. "Could have fooled me." Shawn got quiet, and Carlton rolled his eyes and fought the urge to apologize. He had meant every single word he'd said. If Shawn turned on him, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him first. He intended, somehow, to make it out of this alive. He wasn't sure exactly how, but his contact had assured him that they could figure it out.

"It's a bit more convincing when you can actually see the weapon they're going to kill you with. Hence why a phone call may not be the best way to judge." Shawn's tone sounded light, but Carlton didn't miss the undertones of fear and frustration that were still there. He couldn't blame him for that. Even if he hadn't been scared out of his mind from the moment Shawn mentioned Santa Barbara, he had been living in pretty much the same state since Wednesday morning.

Since he'd woken up to an envelope slipped under his front door with the words RUN RABBIT RUN scrawled on the front in red marker.

He let them fall into silence, not objecting when Shawn started fiddling with the radio. He might be an annoyance, but he was also one of two people in the world Carlton felt like he could trust right now. He'd take being annoyed over being alone. At least for now.

Once he'd found a station playing eighties music, he turned the volume down. Background noise to stifle the silence. Carlton couldn't blame him. "So. Where are we going?" He asked around the time they hit the Marshall city limits a few hours into Minnesota.

"Not sure. My contact says to stick to bigger cities and tourist traps since it's easy to get lost in the flow. Minneapolis is only three hours away. Faster if I book it, though I'd rather not draw the attention of the local police. We can stop there for breakfast and figure out a plan of attack from there."

"Buying an atlas would probably be a good idea." Shawn pilfered through the sparse contents of the glove compartment before slamming it, making an unimpressed noise as he settled, still moving restlessly. "I mean, if we're going to be doing this running thing."

"Probably so, yeah."

"Also getting a different car. If they know this is yours, then they could trace it, couldn't they?"

Carlton was reluctant. He'd set up an account separate from Victoria's in the sparse amount of time he'd been given, and it was already running low. Shawn had made it clear that he thought stealing was a viable option, but Carlton didn't want that. It was breaking the law, and if they were caught in a stolen vehicle, then who knew how quickly it would be over? His sense of self preservation said no, so he did as well. "Maybe. But if we try and steal a car, we risk getting caught and arrested, and that'll at least slow us down if not ensure that we get killed. And buying one is out of the question for me."

Shawn reluctantly sighed. Carlton glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You should get some sleep. No reason for us both to stay up all night."

"Forgive me, Carlton, but given that you've pulled a gun on me and you keep saying mysteriously cryptic things about 'your contact', I don't feel safe enough to nap within arm's reach of you."

Carlton growled, "Get over it. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you already."

Shawn was silent for a moment before he leaned the seat back. Carlton saw him moving, and he risked a look away to see the younger man climbing into the back seat. A blanket and pillow were back there from Carlton's last attempt to snatch some sleep the previous night, and it didn't take long for him to get situated. "Thanks. I guess," Shawn said, meeting his eyes through the rearview mirror.

"Don't thank me yet. We haven't even gotten to the hard part."

\-----

He pulled over at what seemed to be a quiet restaurant that boasted 'Delicious, Homemade Breakfast!' in the window. Carlton waited in the parking lot, keeping an eye on the entrances and exits, waiting to see if anyone followed him in. He glanced up at the rearview mirror, spotting Shawn curled up with the blanket and pillow. Soundly asleep.

Carlton got out of his seatbelt and turned around in the driver's seat. He'd only barely touched Shawn's shoulder before the younger man sat bolt upright, eyes wide as he flung himself away from Carlton's hand. "Breakfast?" Carlton asked like Shawn hadn't just proven that the chosen nickname for people like them was entirely accurate.

Shawn slowly nodded, still looking like he was frightened out of his mind. And if Carlton had been harboring any doubts about whether or not the boy was actually a hunter, they flew out the window. Carlton, as a show of good faith, got out of the car first, taking the chance to stretch his arms and legs out for the first time in hours.

Shawn looked different in the daylight. The early morning sun had him looking too young to be as worn down as he seemed. Carlton's stomach knotted – Shawn couldn't be more than 20, probably wasn't, and yet here he was. Half a country away from home and on the run. "I'll pay."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lassie," Shawn yawned. "I've got my bike money." Carlton froze at the nickname.

"Don't call me that."

"Bad memories?" Shawn peered at him, sharp eyes dulled by lack of good sleep and stress.

"Too familiar," Carlton answered honestly. "Don't get comfortable. Not with anyone, not even with me." He realized dimly that he wanted this kid to make it. He was too young to be running like this from anything much less other people. Going against his own advice, he allowed himself that discretion.

But so help him if Shawn tried to take advantage of that.

Shawn nodded tiredly, "Yeah. Right."

The smell of bacon seemed to wake Shawn up significantly, his eyes opening a bit wider, his tongue peeking out to run over his lips excitedly. Carlton wondered when the last time he'd eaten was. The waitress directed them to a small booth where a multitude of other customers sat. As they got closer, Carlton noticed Shawn's steps slowing, looking at all of the people in groups of two or more. Carlton nudged him, let him feel the hard press of the gun under his arm. Protection. Shawn glanced at him with a small shrug, and they slid into their seats.

As soon as the waitress walked away, Shawn peered at him from across the table. "Tell me more about your contact."

Carlton was taken aback. All of the sleepiness still slowed Shawn down, but his expression and voice were very direct. Demanding. "Why?"

"Because. I think if you're going to trust someone, I should know who they are and why. I'm a part of this, too."

"Ah." Carlton supposed that was only fair. Shawn was putting his life into Carlton's hands. If Carlton was going to hand them both over to an unknown entity, then Shawn deserved to be a part of the decision. "His name's Lightly. Last name, I'm guessing. From what he's told me, he's also from Santa Barbara, but he's part of an international task force trying to stop games like these and save the victims." Shawn's eyes widened slightly at the last word, and Carlton stumbled for a correction, "The runners."

"The rabbits," Shawn said sourly. "Run and hide until the hunters come find you." He frowned. "Should take the fight to them."

Carlton had thought the same thing at first, but they both knew why they couldn't. The envelope with the instructions and rules of the game had contained recent candid photos of loved ones with a target painted over their heads. Victoria. Hank. Lauren. His penalties for breaking the rules.

"Who was in your envelope?" Carlton asked suddenly.

Shawn's eyes snapped up to him, his expression twisting into a scowl. Carlton winced even as Shawn answered, "None of your business."

"Sorry," he amended, grateful that he could see the waitress headed their way with their plates and drinks ready to go, steam curling off the top. "I didn't mean..."

"Whatever." Shawn didn't perk up as the three plates of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fruit slices were put in front of him. But he did start devouring rapidly and silently. Carlton welcomed the quiet and drank his coffee and ate his own waffles while keeping to himself. He wondered if the question would be enough to push Shawn away, but he still seemed subdued. Afraid. Carlton knew the feeling. "We should get going soon, right?" He was shifting nervously less than a minute after clearing the last syrup-drenched bite off his plates.

"Yeah." He wished he knew where the hunters were. How much could they risk? For how long? Would it be safer to stay in Minneapolis or to keep moving? He had no idea. It all depended on who was tracking them, how they would think he would think. And Carlton couldn't figure it out. When the waitress came back, Shawn produced a card from his wallet, handing it over. Carlton wondered but didn't ask.

When they got back in the car, Shawn readjusted the passenger seat. "Where are we going to go?"

"Need to get gas, then we'll keep heading out east."

"What's Lightly's grand plan?" Shawn asked as he leaned back in the seat. "Are we just going to keep running around until we get cornered or run out of gas money or does he want us to find someplace to hide or what?"

"What was your plan?" Carlton pulled his seatbelt on and started the car. "When you were on your own."

"Keep running. Eventually get to New York."

"New York?" Carlton tried not to be amused. He was prepared for a spiel about him wanting to be an actor or something similarly ridiculous given their current situation, but Shawn was silent. Carlton let it stretch on until he was almost sure that Shawn would have let it go. "Lightly has other people in his personal team who can help us. Or he says they can. That they've helped others like us."

"How do we make it be over?"

"We get them to call the game off." That wasn't in the rulebook, but Lightly had been certain that it could be done. He shrugged. It wasn't much, but it was enough to give him hope. And he'd take hope for the time being. "He says that only they can end the game."

"Not true," Shawn answered, sounding falsely cheery. "Suicide's always an option."

Carlton had to give him that.


	3. Chapter 3

They took a moment while at the gas station to chart their course. Carlton decided quickly – they'd stop in Milwaukee for lunch then find someplace to hide out in Chicago for the rest of the day. Let them both catch a wink of sleep and see about contacting Lightly to find out where things stood.

Lightly. Shawn frowned as he thought of the faceless man who could more or less direct them both to their dooms. Carlton didn't seem like the trusting sort of person – Shawn was still shivering when he thought about the way Carlton had looked at him when he'd cornered him in the bathroom. So why Lightly? Shawn didn't trust him, but he trusted Carlton. Had to at this point. "Where are we going after Chicago?"

"Eventually?" Carlton shrugged. "New York, I guess."

Shawn had been staring out at the rolling landscape for hours now. He hadn't thought to pack anything to keep him entertained, and it left him too alone with thoughts he'd rather not have. New York City was a gamble, and it wasn't one he was sure he wanted to take. But if there was anywhere he wanted to be, it was in the same city with his mom. Even if he couldn't talk to her, couldn't risk it, then he could at least sleep soundly knowing that she was somewhere near.

He had so much he wanted to tell her, to ask her about face to face since the divorce, but he hadn't gotten a chance before she'd taken off for the other side of the country. And Henry had refused to let him fly out to see her.

It seemed like the entire universe was conspiring in that direction. He swallowed nervously when he remembered the photos from the envelope. Best not to think about them. Because he knew he'd never risk them. Not his mom, not Gus, and no matter how much he despised the man, he'd never sentence Henry to death.

He'd never hear the end of it from him if he did. Henry would end up being a ghost. Just to irritate Shawn.

This would show him. Staying alive, not needing his help, keeping him safe by running away like he'd threatened to during their last fight. Someday, if Carlton could help keep him alive, Shawn would tell Henry everything. Tell him that the training hadn't helped at all and that he'd survived because he'd been trying to pick up a stranger in a bar.

Shawn sighed and leaned against the glass. He was bored. He was tired. And he didn't want to sleep in case he could see something Carlton couldn't. The older man was obviously smart, but Shawn knew he was smarter. Quicker. More inventive. He'd learned that much already. He trusted Carlton to keep him alive, but if something were to happen that he could've stopped... no. He refused.

"Know any good car games?"

"That aren't I Spy?"

"Yeah." Shawn had won every game of I Spy since he was eight. Eventually, people stopped wanting to play. "Or Slug Bug or Yellow Car or anything typically boring."

"You're running for your life. Not sure you could classify this as boring."

"Could, can, am," Shawn said with another sigh. "Not used to long car rides with nothing to do."

Carlton growled, "Then do something to entertain yourself."

Shawn considered, thought long and hard about what he usually did when he got bored and came up with a conclusion. But it felt polite to ask, "Can I lie to you?" Carlton shot him a look. "Nothing big. I just... if I'm making something up, it helps." He had felt so stifled as a kid, always forced into honesty by Henry, the human lie detector. It wasn't until he'd found solace in gullible Gus that he'd found his one true calling.

Carlton sighed in a way that sounded so much like Henry and Gus's patented 'I've been putting up with you for way too long' that it sent shivers up Shawn's spine. "Fine. Go ahead."

Shawn considered it quickly, and finally piped up with, "Well. As you might have guessed by now, I'm a psychic." The corner of Carlton's mouth twitched up into a small smile as he added, "A pretty famous one at that."

\-----

Shawn spun his tale all the way to Milwaukee, jumping from one unbelievable story to the next. When he began to get quiet, Carlton would prompt him with another question, requiring Shawn to think fast on his feet to cover up any holes in his story that Carlton might be trying to find. He found himself grinning and laughing, lying more and more. Acting like it was all fine.

They found a McDonald's near Milwaukee to stop at for lunch, and they hadn't been sitting for five minutes before the smile died on Shawn's lips and he was doing his best to get a better look at the people who had just walked in. He could have sworn... No. It was more than that. He made plenty of mistakes, but remembering was always a 100% guarantee. "The couple who just came in," he said quietly, keeping his tone light. "I've seen that woman before."

Carlton glanced at them discreetly, expression kept carefully casual as he watched them order their food at the counter. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely." Carlton looked at him, searching for any sign of doubt. Shawn reached up and tapped his temple once. "Eidetic memory."

"Another alleged superpower?" Carlton demanded quietly, obviously trying to feel his way around Shawn. Shawn couldn't blame him for that, but he could be very agitated when they needed to leave now.

"I wouldn't be telling you unless I was completely sure. I've seen her before. Not her partner, but her, and if you give me time to think, I could probably tell you where, when, and what she was doing exactly. But if she's here, then she might be... You know."

"You're right," Carlton said loud enough to be heard by anyone listening. "I think we should get it to go." Shawn let loose a sigh of relief as Carlton went to tell the cashier to bag their lunch up. He stood slowly and watched, nervously, as Carlton got too close to the people Shawn feared were chasing him. Them.

If Carlton was getting a good look at them, he was being very careful because Shawn couldn't tell from where he was standing. Shawn began to edge closer, not sure exactly what he'd do if they tried to do something to Carlton. Run probably. As much as he'd like to pretend that he'd rush in and try to help, he was too aware of the fact that he was unarmed and overpowered.

The woman turned to look at him, smiling his way. Dark wavy hair that curled around her shoulders, and dark eyes that seemed to stare straight into him. To see exactly how afraid he was of her at that moment. Her smile showed too many of her teeth, and the only way Shawn thought she could seem more threatening was if they were sharp like a shark's.

He realized he was staring the moment Carlton grabbed his arm, hauling him out of the McDonald's. "What do we do?" Carlton pushed him toward the car as he moved quickly towards the driver's seat.

Carlton considered for a moment before he answered, "We stay in Milwaukee. Park the car somewhere and walk. Stay where it's crowded and hope it's deterrent enough until dark. Maybe they'll keep chasing onto Chicago and leave us behind."

"You think they're the guys then?"

Carlton snarled as he turned the car on and slammed it into reverse, "The man made a gun out of his fingers and aimed it at me, so I'm going with yes. Those are the people we're running from."

Shawn looked back towards the restaurant as they pulled away, catching a good look at the faces of the two people standing by the counter. He memorized them, his stomach clenching as he caught their eyes. In a moment of foolhardy bravery, he stuck out his tongue at them. The small act of defiance made him feel even worse.

\-----

They pulled into a parking space downtown, and Shawn noted the location before following earnestly after Carlton. They had eaten on the way into the city, quickly engulfing what might possibly be their last meal. It tasted like cardboard to Shawn. Delicious, greasy fast-food cardboard but cardboard nonetheless. "Let's go find someplace with a lot of witnesses," Carlton said, leading the way towards a significant-sized gathering of people further down the road.

Shawn caught up to him and grabbed his hand. Carlton immediately jerked his away, pushing Shawn back. Shawn rolled his eyes and leaned up to murmur in his ear. "If you're holding my hand, you'll know if I suddenly vanish." He grabbed Carlton's hand again. "Get over it."

He felt reluctant fingers twine with his, and Shawn pulled himself away. He kept himself close enough where they seemed to be companions but distanced enough for Carlton to maintain a bit of his personal space. They set off through the crowd together. Shawn's eyes snapped from person to person, trying to pick out the two people from earlier. He relaxed when he didn't see them, but his grip on Carlton's hand tightened.

No need for unnecessary risks.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowds. He hated crowds. Hated the closeness, hated the loud voices of people trying to talk over one another, hated how he couldn't trust any of them. Yet, he needed this one, the one crowding the downtown, flitting between shops and street performers. Killing time in a place where it would be difficult to single them out and get them alone.

Carlton's hand shifted, fingers tightening anew around Shawn's hand. The kid was right, of course – it was the only way to be completely sure that they stayed by each other's side. It was uncomfortable, though, remembering how less than a day ago, Shawn had been offering with that easy smirk and the somewhat subtle display of his body.

Idiot. He had been lucky. If Carlton had been anyone else, then who knew what might have happened? Though, to be fair, he was stupid in his own way, too. For inviting him into his car, adding Shawn's problems to his. For sticking his neck out when that was probably the last thing he needed to do.

"I haven't seen them," Shawn announced suddenly, leaning close to whisper where none of the passersby could hear.

"Me either, but I'd rather be safe than sorry." Shawn nodded in agreement and he didn't move away. Carlton didn't relax with the sudden closeness of their bodies, but Shawn did. The tension eased out of his shoulders, and he allowed himself to slightly slouch. Allowed himself to be comfortable. Carlton wanted to scold him for that, wanted to remind him that they couldn't start letting their guards down.

But Shawn's eyes drooped for a moment, glazed and unfocused, eyelashes fluttering as he fought to keep his eyes open, and Carlton said nothing.

The afternoon seemed to be one of the longest of Carlton's life. Between his own exhaustion and paranoia and the lack of anything definitive to do, time seemed to drag on and on. He was grateful that no one seemed too interested in them, though he didn't miss the occasional odd glances they earned. Let them think whatever they wanted to. He had bigger problems.

"Wake up," he said, shaking their joined hands softly.

"Sleepy," Shawn complained, obviously trying to remain alert even as he continued to fail. "Think they'd be willing to call a time-out for like an hour or something?"

Carlton allowed himself a smile, "For naptime?"

"Obviously," Shawn said airily, leaning heavily on Carlton. Carlton maneuvered them both to a nearby bench, letting Shawn sit and lean against him. He watched the people move by, fighting off his own exhaustion, his eyelids feeling heavier. Carlton shook his head, trying to push it down. He needed to sleep tonight. This exhausted and he'd start making mistakes. Shawn spoke up, squinting at the sky and trying to determine how much longer they were in danger, "I don't think I've ever been more ready for a sunset in my life."

"Fourth of July," Carlton answered without having to do much thinking. "Waiting for it to get dark enough to start shooting fireworks."

"Maybe," Shawn said.

"Christmas Eve, too." He tried valiantly not to think about family, about his brother and sister and his mother.

Shawn's snort of derision caught him by surprise. "Christmas," he said with a small shake of his head. 

Carlton looked down at him, not capable of hiding his surprised, confused expression. " _You_ don't like Christmas?"

Shawn looked like something was bothering him, his shoulders shifting uncomfortably as he frowned. He sat up suddenly, putting a little bit of space between himself and Carlton. He even let go of Carlton's hand. "Let's not? With the personal details and everything?" His expression was grim. "It doesn't matter."

"Fine by me," Carlton said with a shrug.

Shawn nodded and slouched on the bench, crossing his arms. "Good. Great." He directed his eyes to the crowd, still scowling away, an expression that looked almost alien on him. Shawn didn't seem the type to frown often, and it seemed Carlton had touched a nerve. Typical. Less than a day together and he'd already pissed the kid off. "Not like it matters now anyway," Shawn's tone was bitter, but when Carlton looked at him, his smile was just barely showing hints of strain. Otherwise, he seemed bright, active, more awake than he had a few minutes ago.

Carlton shook his head and chose to ignore it. So, Shawn was actually good at lying and not just when he was spinning stories to make the travel time more bearable. Duly noted. "Don't say that."

"You think we'll make it to Christmas?" Shawn sounded doubtful, kicking his legs out idly. "Three-ish months, really?"

"If I didn't think I could survive, I wouldn't have run in the first place."

"Wouldn't you have?" Shawn turned to face him, peering at him with a curious tilt of his head.

Carlton frowned. "No." In fact, when Lightly had first contacted him, he'd been considering holding his ground. Getting the local police involved and hoping they could at least catch the bastard who did it even if Carlton didn't make it. "What would be the point? You'd be giving them the satisfaction by already admitting that they won. You'd be running for no reason."

"They're going to win anyway, whether you admit it or not," Shawn said, seeming somehow light in spite of the admission that they were both just biding time until their inevitable murders.

"Then what were you doing?"

Shawn's expression turned momentarily steely before he shrugged, seeming calm and more direct than Carlton had seen him. "Thought I might as well make the most of it. Travel the country, live off the adrenaline and stolen credit cards. Find my way into beds that wanted me."

His grin was filthy in ways Carlton fought hard not to describe. It faded after a moment, replaced with contemplation, "Speaking of. Still trying to figure out how I went from that to this."

Carlton saw the lie, had the accusation dancing on the tip of his tongue. Because Shawn afraid in that bathroom, shaking with fear, begging not to be killed – that wasn't someone who had accepted their fate. Desperate people begged. Resigned people fought. And here they were in between, in limbo, waiting for a shift towards one direction or the other.

In the end, he didn't say anything, just filed the knowledge away for later. Shawn was lying. Shawn wanted Carlton to think he had already given up. Shawn was a snake in the grass. Carlton made a mental note to sleep with his gun under his pillow tonight. He had every intention to anyway, always liked to keep it within reach, but knowing that Shawn couldn't run off with it cemented the idea in his head.

"Easy. You know that it's better to have someone at your back than to be running by yourself. This way, you don't have to be alone." It was the same reasoning that had led him to making the offer to keep Shawn with him. Shawn didn't answer, and Carlton pushed himself to his feet. "Come on. We've got a ton of time to kill, and there's not nearly enough people around right now."

Shawn nodded and stood, reaching for Carlton's hand without question. Carlton gripped back without thinking and steered them towards the nearest pack of people. Within a few steps, Shawn's smile was back in place, and he was walking with energy that had seemed completely lost not that long ago.

Carlton smothered a yawn.

\-----

Shawn was right. Midway through a cautious dinner that had them seated in a corner table and watching everyone with the eyes of the overly-cautious, Shawn pointed out excitedly that the sun was dipping beneath the horizon. Carlton had never seen a more beautiful sunset. "We made it," Shawn said excitedly with a happy laugh that said he hadn't expected them to. "We actually made it."

"Yeah. We did." Carlton allowed himself to relax, acknowledging the weariness that settled onto his shoulders. "We'll find a hotel after this."

"And I'm going to have the longest sleep of my life," Shawn said with an unfocused smile.

"We're leaving at least thirty minutes before dawn. So sleep in until you have enough time to get ready." Shawn groaned unhappily, but Carlton refused to relent. They argued all the way back to the car – they checked it hastily for wiring before hopping in – and then to the motel.

He'd never been happier to be in a cheap motel in his entire life. Even the fact that they would be sharing a bed didn't bother him. He'd barely turned on the light before Shawn flung himself across the room, landing on the bed with a gentle bounce. When Shawn looked up at him, it was with a genuine smile, tired and ready to hit the hay. "Go on."

"Weren't you gonna call Lightly?"

"Yeah but..." He shook his head. " We're both tired. I'll call him first thing after we get into the hotel tomorrow."

"After a long, tiring day of driving?" Shawn clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.

"Or you could drive. Wouldn't kill you." It might kill him, though. If he didn't know better than to exhaust himself by insisting on always being the one to drive, he'd never give the keys over to Shawn. It was hard enough to begrudgingly give in to his common sense. But two of them trading off would be infinitely better, and he was willing to acknowledge that and give up some of his control.

"Or you could drive and let me keep you entertained," Shawn offered. 

Carlton frowned and shook his head again. "You get first driving shift tomorrow. So rest up." After a moment, he added, "And keep your hands to yourself."

"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," Shawn said brightly before bouncing off to the bathroom. Carlton picked out his pajama pants from his suitcase, taking the chance to slip them on. Shawn must have had a similar idea – he came out of the bathroom wearing only his boxers, his arms full of his clothes which he tossed into a pile on the floor.

By the time Carlton got done with his nightly routine, Shawn was snuggled beneath the covers, asleep. Carlton set the alarm on the clock, and he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

Shawn woke up, the alarm clock flashing 4:14 AM from nightstand next to Carlton's head. He slowly unraveled from the sheets and blanket that he'd managed to twist around himself in the night, stealing more and more from the man across the way. The hotel room was cold on his bare skin, but Shawn's first stop wasn't at his own duffel bag.

Shawn felt Carlton's suitcase, quickly memorizing the exact way it was laying in the dark. It was tempting – take what he needed then get out. Let them go their separate ways because Shawn was almost completely sure he'd be better on his own. Before he'd even started unzipping, he found that the 'almost' had stilled his hands.

"Come on," he encouraged himself in the dark. It shouldn't have been a difficult decision to make. He was smarter. He couldn't afford to be weighed down by dead weight that seemed to like giving orders and being in control. All he had to do was take it – wallet, gun, keys – then go. And so what if that meant when the sun came up, Carlton was a sitting duck? Not his problem.

The idea had come to life while he'd slept, had driven him from the bed purposefully and eagerly, telling him that he was better, but as Shawn blinked the sleep-inspired bravado away, he realized that this was possibly a monumentally bad idea. He could pretend all he wanted, but truth be told, he thought he could like Carlton's company, would be happier with someone to travel with.

And, no matter how often he tried to convince himself otherwise, he did have a conscience that kindly reminded him that Carlton had stuck his neck out for him when he hadn't needed to. They could have parted ways in Sioux Falls, and what sort of thanks would it be if Shawn punished him for that? Shawn had watched enough movies to know those were the actions of a coward and a very bad person.

With a sigh in lament for his half-brained plan, Shawn backed away from Carlton's suitcase and went to his own duffel bag, fishing out the least dirty of his laundry and noting that they should stop at a laundromat sometime in the next few days. He realized faintly that planning for the future meant conceding that there would be a future.

Maybe Carlton was right. Shawn didn't think he'd tell him that.

By the time he got done showering, shaving, messing with his hair (he missed having it long – getting it cut had been his punishment for stealing the car a few weeks ago), and brushing his teeth, Carlton was awake, grumbly and half-asleep as he took over the bathroom. Shawn packed up his things and peeked outside. It was definitely starting to get lighter out.

Shawn turned on the TV, fidgeting as he waited for Carlton to get done. Thinking about the arrest for even just a moment had him wondering how Henry had taken it when Shawn had just disappeared. How he would explain it to Mom. What Gus would be doing when he noticed that Shawn had lifted his first credit card out of his wallet. What he would think.

He tried to shake it all away – none of it mattered. Not now.

And he desperately didn't want Carlton to see him looking contemplative. When he heard the water shut off, he forced on a smile, lifted his head and his shoulders. Once the door opened, he asked quickly, "I'm driving first?"

"Yep. Unless you've got good objections to it." Carlton tossed him the keys as he shoved his dirty clothes into his suitcase. "Come on. We need to get going."

\-----

After a quick breakfast of donuts and coffee, Shawn said, "When you call Lightly, I want it to be on speakerphone." He gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to sound firm, unyielding. "I need to hear him, and I need to know what he says."

"Don't trust me?"

"Difference in trusting you and trusting him," Shawn pointed out. He caught Carlton's shrug out of the corner of his eye. "Besides, didn't you tell me not to get too comfortable?"

"Fair enough."

\-----

It was a pleasantly quiet day, and Shawn wasn't often the sort of guy who enjoyed quiet days. They were headed down the I-94 to Chicago when Carlton finally seemed to pull himself out of the thoughts that had him quiet and them both listening to the radio for the last hour or so. He had taken to contemplating the atlas they'd bought, flipping here and there.

Finally, he said, "Could New York wait?"

Shawn looked over at him only to be met with a scowl and he hurriedly looked back at the highway. He reluctantly shrugged. He'd rather get to New York to be close to his mom, but he didn't want to say that. So Shawn decided to sound as if he didn't care at all. That was easier than to be expected to ignore more personal questions he didn't want to answer. "Sure. Why?"

"Because if they did their research and they know you have a reason to be there, they may be headed that way. I was thinking of heading south a bit for today and asking Lightly tonight what he thinks the best plan might be."

Shawn nodded reluctantly. One day out of the way wouldn't kill him. Well. Hopefully. "Fine by me."

\-----

When they stopped to get lunch and snacks at a gas station, Carlton picked up a few books of Sudoku, crossword puzzles, and word finds. Shawn, after a quick flip through all of them and realizing that he'd be bored to tears with them, insisted on stopping at a used bookstore just down the road. Books weren't really his thing – Gus was the bookworm not him. But without something else to keep him occupied, he was going to go slowly crazy.

He picked out a few books with terrible covers near the front of the store, paid the $9 with Gus's credit card, and then was hopping back into the car less than fifteen minutes after he'd gotten out of it.

He realized after a few minutes that he'd somehow managed to pick out four trashy romance books.

A few pages into the first one, laughing and reading a paragraph out loud to Carlton, he decided he didn't care.

\-----

The day ended up being somewhat relaxing. Shawn couldn't see any cars that seemed to be following them, and he hadn't seen the two people from the McDonald's yesterday at all. Part of him stayed on guard, convinced that there might be others coming after them, but without evidence of it, his worry dropped to a mild simmer, still present but not as pressing as it had been previously.

They stopped in St. Louis in the middle of the afternoon, Carlton deciding that they'd gone far enough for the day. They spent a few hours downtown, out in the open and watching nervously to see if they were being followed. Hand in hand, they went through the crowds, from shop to shop, slowly finding that they were safe for the time being.

By the time the sky began to get dark, most of Shawn's apprehension came from the idea of talking to Lightly. It only got worse as they ate dinner and drove to the nearest cheap hotel advertising unoccupied rooms. He was jittery as they settled in the room, looking out at the rapidly-darkening sky. Shawn sank down on the edge of the bed, peering at Carlton as he locked the door with one more paranoid glance outside.

Shawn couldn't keep himself from asking, "What if Lightly tells you to kill me? What'll you do?"

Carlton shook his head, distractedly looking around the room. Checking for wires and cameras and everything Shawn could have already told him weren't there. "Tell him I'm not going to commit murder."

Shawn sighed, more frustrated than relieved, "If he tells you to ditch me?"

"Tell him to make a convincing case." Carlton looked at Shawn severely. "Or tell him to come up with an alternative. And strongly suggest that he does." He gave a very small smile. "I'm not going to leave you behind unless I have to or unless you want to leave."

Shawn slowly nodded, agreeing. "Or until you get sick of me."

"Then you should stop reading those god-awful books out loud while I'm trying to drive." Even as he said it, Carlton's smile became softer. Amusement, Shawn thought. It looked good on him. Shawn hadn't hit on him for no reason – he would rather go without than attempt to make a move on someone he wasn't actually attracted to.

But he quickly reined those thoughts in, locked them firmly away. That might be the one thing he couldn't get away with, the one thing he wouldn't try. Carlton had made his position very clear, and Shawn wasn't going to push him on it.

"You liked it," he accused with a grin. Carlton shook his head, still smiling. "You totally want to know what Hans and Greta do to the the naughty witch."

"I'm on the edge of my seat." Carlton sighed and looked towards the desk with the phone sitting on it, waiting for them to stop avoiding the inevitable. "Come on, let's get this over with." Shawn rolled across the bed to sit on the side nearest the desk while Carlton slid into the chair. He pushed the phone to the edge of the table and pulled the phone off the hook. Shawn leaned forward, nervous and excited to finally get to talk to the man who might be able to save his life. Carlton chuckled at him, and Shawn glared half-heartedly back. "Trust me. It's not as bad as you think."

"I dunno. This whole running rabbit thing has just been reaching new levels of bad." Shawn tried to keep himself smiling. "But yeah, okay. Let's do this."

Carlton pushed the speaker button, a red light glowing brightly on the bottom of the phone. He punched in a series of numbers quickly, practiced for a number he'd only known for a little over a week. Shawn breathed deeply, clasping his hands together and trying to contain his jittery nerves.

Two rings, and there was an audible click. And silence.

"Lightly," Carlton said.

"Carlton," a thin, nasally voice answered. Shawn wasn't sure whether the laugh he stifled was out of amusement or out of sudden desperation as he realized that _this_ was the guy they were trusting with their lives. "How's St. Louis?" Shawn immediately stiffened, his eyes going wide.

Carlton, on the other hand, seemed unnerved by Lightly's apparent omniscience. "Safe. For now, at least."

"Ah. Good, good." Shawn didn't like how... calm he sounded. How unaffected. He frowned but said nothing as Lightly continued, "Why don't we talk about the elephant in the room, Carlton? Well. I'm assuming he's in the room."

"Elephant?" Shawn asked, trying to sound amused, trying to keep smiling even though both were hard due to the sudden anger and dislike Shawn took to Lightly.

"I have other choices. Cop's son. Troublemaker. Genius." The smile he heard made him all the more nervous, "Hello, Shawn."

He ignored the odd look Carlton was angling at him, and forced himself to reply, "Hey, Lightly. How's it going?"

"Ah, flippant. You see, I thought you'd either be flippant or angry. Either trying to shrug off your discomfort or attack it head-on." 

Shawn's smile got harder to hold. "I'm sorry. Do we know each other?"

"I make it my business to know everything about these matters that I can. I can't be helpful if I'm not informed. In any case. I'm sorry you have to be a part of this." Even as he said it, his voice sounded devoid of emotion, empathy. Shawn shivered slightly and leaned forward again, listening intently. "How much have you told him, Carlton?"

"Enough to fill in the gaps."

Shawn cut in quickly, "He said we can get out of this alive?"

"They can call the hunt off. Either because you're too good at running and hiding and end up being too inconvenient to keep chasing or because they take mercy on you." After a second, Lightly added, "I wouldn't bet on mercy. If I were you."

"So we run until they get bored."

"And he helps us stay ahead," Carlton said, looking grim. "Hopefully."

"Right," Lightly agreed.

"So," Shawn ventured, "what would that help entail, exactly?"

"I'm setting up my contacts as we speak. They'll help you along the way. Give you supplies or training that I can't."

"And you're sure we can trust them?" Carlton immediately asked.

"I wouldn't give you to them if I didn't trust them. They're all like you – people who were running at some point, people who got away. Or they were close to someone who didn't make it. I trust them with my life. I'm sure you can trust them with yours."

"You're running too?"

"Of course not, Shawn. But you can't think the people chasing you would let me live if they knew where I was."

"No," Shawn admitted. "So you trust them."

"We will too," Carlton lied, silently shifting his left arm. To feel the weight of his gun, Shawn thought. The reminder that they weren't helpless. Or at least Carlton wasn't. He caught Carlton's eye and nodded, showing him that he understood and was with him on all counts.

"So, where's our first stop?"

Lightly considered for a moment before he answered. "I'm still trying to get my contacts on the East Coast in working order. They all got a little scattered, but they should be in line soon enough. If you want to get help the quickest, one of the best I can get can meet up with you in about three days if you keep heading west."

"I need to get to New York," Shawn said in the ensuing silence.

"You'll be better off with him helping you, Shawn. And I don't think I need to tell you how unwise it would be to contact Madeline. Chances are, your hunters will be waiting for you there if you go now."

"Madeline?" Carlton turned to glare at him. "You're after a _girl_?"

Shawn wanted to deny it – or deny the truth and confirm the lie because he didn't want Carlton knowing. It wasn't an issue of trust but an admission of his own weakness. He didn't get the chance, as Lightly clarified, sounding almost embarrassed though Shawn didn't believe it. "It's his mother, Carlton." He continued, unable to see the way Carlton stiffened, clenching his jaw as he looked away from Shawn. "If you start moving west, they'll follow you."

"Fine," Shawn growled finally. "Whatever."

"Good," Lightly said easily, like he hadn't, in this one conversation, revealed more about Shawn than he'd been willing to admit to Carlton on his own. "And if I may offer some advice? Move slower. Driving seven to ten hours a day is going to burn you out quickly. Your pursuers are going to catch up, just don't let them catch you alone or surprised. You should both be good enough for that."

"Any other advice you want to give us?" Carlton sounded cold. "About being in a group?"

"No, actually. This is a first for me. Never had more than one person before." Shawn's stomach turned, and the room spun around him as he gripped the bedding tightly. Lightly sounded excited. Happy, even. "Call me tomorrow night, and I should have everything about your meetup confirmed. For now, get some rest. And good luck tomorrow."

Carlton hung up the phone, and Shawn growled angrily, "He's fucking getting off on this."

"I know," Carlton admitted, sounding no happier than Shawn did. "But he's what we've got."

"And what if he's delivering us to the people who are trying to kill us? What happens then?"

Carlton shrugged, his shoulders seeming heavy to Shawn's keen eyes, but he couldn't spare mercy for him at the moment. The dizziness of fear and distrust was clouding his mind. "We do our best to make sure they die too." Carlton looked at him, expression intense. "Mutually assured destruction."

"Great. Fantastic plan for staying alive."

"What were you going to do? Go to New York, talk to your mommy?" He spat the word out almost hatefully, pushing himself out of his chair. "Get everyone in your envelope killed? That what you want, Shawn?"

"I wasn't going to contact her," Shawn said, glaring up at the older man and refusing to stand up, crowd his space, push him like he suddenly wanted to. "I wanted..." He paused, shook his head, shaking with anger.

"Wanted what?" Carlton's hands were curled into fists. "What was your master plan, Einstein?"

"I wanted to see her one last time before I was chased down and slaughtered." Shawn met his gaze evenly, scowling and refusing to mask himself. "I wanted to see how she was doing. She has to know I'm missing by now. I needed to see that she was going to be okay. That-" he took a deep breath and continued, "that she wasn't lying to me when we talked on the phone. I haven't seen her in almost a _year_ because Dad wouldn't let me after the divorce. The last time we saw each other, she was getting on a plane to New York because he got the house, he got everything. He got me." He pushed himself to his feet finally, still too short to be intimidating to Carlton, but he didn't care. "Happy now? Any more questions?"

Shawn didn't wait for an answer. He left Carlton standing there, expression undefinable as Shawn walked around him, stormed to the door. He fiddled with the lock then threw it open, making sure to slam it behind him as he stepped out into the chill night air.

"Fuck."


	6. Chapter 6

He wasn't sure who had fucked that up more: Lightly or himself.

It had been clear from Lightly's first attempt to address Shawn that he knew much more than the kid was comfortable with. And he hadn't been shy about sharing. Carlton should have warned Shawn that Lightly seemed to know everything. Carlton had gotten used to the idea, somehow, since that first phone call where Lightly had seemed to know everything about him down to his reactions.

So. His fault on that front, and then he'd pushed Shawn's buttons by being angry at his reason for wanting to go to New York. He didn't know the rules when it came to that – if Shawn did, somehow, contact his mother, breaking that rule and killing one of the people chosen as insurance, would one of Carlton's have to die for letting him?

It wasn't unreasonable for the kid to be emotional and attached to his parents. God, Carlton knew that, but he'd gotten angry anyway. And of course Shawn had thought it through better than he'd given him credit for.

Lightly had called him a genius. It wasn't meant to be a compliment or insult – it was a simple statement of fact.

Carlton slowly followed him outside, surprised to find Shawn simply leaning against his car, his head and shoulders dropped as he shook from the cold. Carlton approached him carefully, letting his footsteps remain audible as he drew close. "Go away," Shawn said quietly.

"No." Carlton drew up next to him. Apologizing was hard. But letting this be what got either of them killed when Carlton had promised not even an hour earlier to try and keep Shawn with him – that was unacceptable. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Being honest?" Shawn huffed and turned his head away. Carlton could see the angry red to his cheek anyway. He wondered faintly if Shawn had been crying, and he felt his stomach twist into several new knots.

"For being a jackass." Carlton didn't move, but Shawn did, slowly inching closer to the warmer body next to him. "I don't know if I could resist contacting the people I cared about if we were in the same city. I shouldn't have assumed you were..." Shawn looked up at him, eyes definitely rimmed with red. Carlton forced the rest of the thought out. "That you're as weak as I am."

Shawn let the silence stretch on for far too long until he finally said, "Not really weak. It's human. That's why the rules are there in the first place. It's to make us lonely and desperate. Not to keep us from getting help."

"Even so."

"Yeah," Shawn's expression turned teasing as he tried to relax. "We're not allowed to be human anymore."

"Scared little rabbits," Carlton said, earning him a quiet laugh. He nudged Shawn with his elbow. "Come on, let's get inside."

"Dibs on the shower."

"Fine. Dibs on the bed."

Shawn frowned as he pushed Carlton lightly back towards the room. "Try to take over the bed. I dare you. I'll turn all of your clothes inside out in your suitcase then end up sleeping on top of you anyway. And I'll do it, too."

Carlton took a long look at him before finally giving Shawn a small smile, "I don't doubt you would."

\-----

They weren't even halfway through Missouri when the Oregon Trail references started. "We haven't even made it to Independence yet," Carlton pointed out to Shawn who was chipper enough to take the first shift.

"And we've already lost three wagon members. This is _awful_." Shawn glanced up in the rear view mirror as if confirming that they didn't have any other passengers. "I'm going to die choleric and alone before I even get out of Kansas."

Even Carlton knew the rules to that stupid game. "Which means you're planning on me dying pretty quickly."

"Well. I don't know how well this car will do with fording a river."

"Then don't."

"Carlton!" Shawn glared at him before quickly turning his gaze back to the road. "You have to ford the first river. Everyone knows that." He huffed in a frustrated sigh. "That's like saying you don't buy minimum of everything then buy like 99 cases of bullets."

"I could get behind that logic," Carlton said, aware of his gun under his arm, safe and secure. "The more, the merrier." Shawn laughed and launched into more arbitrary rules and branching off into other unspoken rules of various everythings. Carlton mostly tuned him out, watching the land roll by.

\-----

"Lightly said you're a genius," Carlton said after lunch in Kansas City. They were heading southwest, him driving, on the road to Wichita. It felt daring, asking for personal information, knowing he was inviting the same sort of questions back at him. "Are you?"

He saw Shawn's shrug out of the corner of his eye. Shawn's attention seems wholly focused on the book he had clasped in his hands. "It doesn't matter."

"He also said you're a cop's kid," he ventured, curious about the connection between them. Wondering if their pursuers knew there was a connection between them.

"What of it?"

Carlton took a deep breath and admitted, "I was still a rookie. But chances are, I know your dad. Run errands, do the dirty work, help when it's asked for. You end up meeting everyone in the station before too long."

"Figures you'd be a cop." Shawn sighed. "You've got that whole rules thing and obey the law and no fun ever." Carlton nodded in agreement. He had fun, yes, but he'd accepted a long time ago that what he found fun was mostly boring to everyone else. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you want to be an officer?" Shawn closed the book and tossed it up on the dashboard. He turned in his seat to face Carlton who kept his hands at 10 and 2, eyes on the road. "You had to have wanted to be."

Carlton didn't know when the dream had started, but he knew it had been with him a long time. He shrugged, "When you're made for it, I guess you know."

"No," Shawn cut in almost coldly. "You don't. There has to be a reason why anyone would even want..." He sighed and flopped back dramatically in his seat. Still not wearing his seatbelt, but that wasn't an argument Carlton wanted to have. He thought they'd had enough arguing so far to last them for at least a few days. 

He wanted to ask. Wanted to know what this kid seemed to have against the easy answers, but the longer he thought about it, an answer became apparent. Or one of the many answers, anyway. "When I was a kid, I was obsessed with the Old West. The sheriffs were expected to be embodiments of justice. It requires intelligence, wisdom, and something else. Something like seeing clockwork not running smoothly and knowing you have to fix it. Being willing to. Even if it comes at a cost."

"Being a cop isn't like that."

"No. It's not." There were rules to be followed, regulations and procedures, but it was still very much the same thing. Throwing order into the chaos, forcing it to heel, forcing the world to make sense again. "But that's probably where it came from. For me."

"Ah." Shawn fidgeted, reached for his book before pulling his hands back with an agitated sigh. "Henry Spencer."

Carlton looked over in surprise. He knew Henry had a kid – he had been at the station when Henry had arrested him – but Shawn? When he thought about it, looked back at the more serious moments they'd had so far, he could almost see it. But then there were the romance novels and the lying and the everything else.

He was also surprised that Shawn had given his real name back in South Dakota.

His eyes snapped back to the road. "I'm running around the country with Henry Spencer's brat."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"He's going to kill me."

"He'll have to beat the other two to it," Shawn pointed out cheerily, and Carlton shook his head, annoyed that he was smiling, amused when there was so much on the line. But he'd take it. Whatever little entertainment he could have now was his to enjoy. For however long it lasted. For however long he had left to live.

\-----

The call with Lightly that evening was over with quickly. Shawn oversaw it in silence, eyes closed on the bed even though he wasn't asleep. He gave the address to a Starbucks in Denver and the orders, "Two days at 9 AM sharp. He'll enter, order his coffee, approach, and he'll say that I sent him. Trust him. He's done this before, and we've yet to lose anyone who followed his instructions."

"Don't we get a name or a description or something?"

"Oh, yes. Of course. When he orders his coffee, he'll give the name of an artist. Listen for that."

"Great," Carlton said with a sigh as Lightly hung up with a click.

"We don't have to go," Shawn pointed out, his eyes open and looking at Carlton.

"No," he agreed. It'd be easy to take off again, head out in a different direction, miss their rendezvous. But forsaking help didn't seem like the smartest move to make. Not if they wanted to make it out of this.

"But we're going to," Shawn added, and Carlton nodded.

"Yeah. We are." He rubbed the back of his neck as he sank down on the bed. "We should get to Denver tomorrow. Do laundry, get ready. Come up with a backup plan just in case." He looked back at Shawn who seemed to be distracted. "We'll be fine."

"They could be catching up."

"We'll be fine," Carlton repeated firmly, almost daring Shawn to argue with him. 

Shawn's smile was almost pitying as he laid back against the pillows, hands behind his head as he relaxed. "If you say so."

\-----

The wait was verging on unbearable. Neither of them talked about it, but they didn't have to in order to feel each other's nerves. Carlton itched to visit a firing range, to feel the comfort of pulling the trigger and losing all worries about everything except the target and his shot. He was terse and abrasive which could only be making Shawn more nervous. The kid was going between being too quiet and talking too much at annoyingly random intervals and had been since they'd gotten to Denver.

It would help if he was talking about anything important, but he wasn't. So far as Carlton could tell, Shawn was on the Rapid Fire setting, jumping from topic to topic as quickly as he could. Talking endlessly before eventually lapsing into complete silence. "Carlton?"

Carlton was mildly surprised. It had only been ten minutes since Shawn had sunk into his almost broody silence. He was happier, though, with this. Shawn talking was, at the very least, a distraction from the anticipation. They parked down the street from the Starbucks, and Carlton didn't protest at all when Shawn's hand grabbed for his the moment he stepped up onto the sidewalk. "Yeah?"

His voice was soft, subdued, "No matter what happens, we stick together, right?" Shawn's head was lifted, his eyes moving rapidly, actively searching for even the slightest hint that something was wrong. But he sounded almost scared. "We won't let this guy only help one of us?"

"I'll do everything I can, Shawn." He wished he could say for certain that they would stick together, but he knew better. Carlton might not have been an officer for long, but he knew his place was behind civilians. He was the second priority behind them, and it held true for him even though he'd given his resignation.

Shawn bought them both coffees, and they took a seat at a small table against the wall near the front of the store. They both kept glancing at the window and the door when it opened, listening carefully to the orders even though it was at least 20 minutes before their contact was due to arrive.

Carlton could feel the tension in his shoulders, making him stiff, jumpy no matter how he tried to remain calm. He took a deep breath, satisfied when his hands didn't shake as he picked up his cup. "Look more suspicious." Carlton's attention focused on Shawn who was, in spite of everything, wearing a cheeky smile. "Please. I don't think anyone realizes we're sorta shady yet."

"Shut up," Carlton growled, eyes narrowed even as his shoulders relaxed slightly.

"I just want everyone to know that we're up to no good." Shawn beamed. Carlton kicked him gently under the table, unsurprised when Shawn's retort was another kick. Carlton indulged the moment of silliness, nudging him back with a faint smile. "Don't start what you can't finish."

Carlton had barely opened his mouth to respond when he heard the sound of shattering glass. His head snapped up to look at the window facing the street, the green emblem cut apart by a spiderweb of white cracks all centered on the bullet hole.

He heard the second gunshot, and he jumped to his feet.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Shawn registered that someone was shooting at them, both he and Carlton were against the front wall, shoes crunching on broken glass, his heart pounding in his ears as they waited for the next shot. Carlton kept him pushed against the wall, kept him upright as Shawn slowly pulled himself out of the daze of fear. He felt the rush of adrenaline as he looked at the other hidden patrons, listened to the frightened murmurs of the baristas.

"Shawn!" Carlton pushed his shoulder, and Shawn was aware that Carlton had been saying his name for the last few seconds.

"I'm here. I'm fine," he said, though he didn't feel like it. Everything felt slow, hazy, in a constant state of the past tense though it was slowly rushing into the present as the third gunshot hit above the table he and Carlton had been sitting at.

"We need to get out of here."

"Without dying," Shawn added.

Carlton nodded, agreed quietly, "Without dying." Shawn looked at the clock. The first shot had been fired around a minute before their contact was due to arrive.

"Lightly set us up."

"We'll deal with that later," Carlton promised, still pressing Shawn against the wall like he didn't trust Shawn to stay. "We will. Right now? Focus, Shawn."

Shawn felt like his mind was running in hyperdrive. Every small detail screamed at him to be noticed, and none of them were helping. There were people afraid for their lives, and Shawn was cataloging them before he could stop himself. Relationships, pets, passions, worries, one of them wearing a medical alert bracelet- "Shawn," Carlton's voice was soothing in spite of the tension in it – fear and anger yet somehow comforting.

Shawn's eyes snapped up. "Side exit through the back." There was a gleam of light on the wall through the open door that had to be from an Exit sign if he had to guess.

"Right. On three, okay?"

"Wait, three and go or one-two-three-go and go?"

Carlton pulled himself back until he was against the wall next to Shawn. "Three and go." Shawn nodded, his hand reaching out to touch Carlton's. "One." Carlton and Shawn both took a deep breath. "Two." Shawn mentally calculated his trajectory. He'd need to jump the counter. He'd seen stuff like that in tons of movies, and he was suddenly aware of his lack of confidence that he could. "Three!" 

No more time for questions and doubts and fears. Carlton was faster than him, over the counter before Shawn got to it. Shawn heard the fourth shot, heard more glass shatter, and he jumped.

His knee banged against the corner of the cabinet. Carlton's hands were on him before he could even so much as wobble, pulling him over. He landed hard on the floor as Carlton ducked down beside him. "Ow," Shawn said breathlessly.

"You okay?" Carlton's attention flicked between him and the two baristas sitting down, pressed against the counter, ghostly pale with fear.

"Yeah. No bullet holes. We're good." He tried to smile at them. "There an exit back there?" They nodded, silent, and Shawn nodded back. "Okay, thanks."

"Let's get out of here," Carlton crouched and moved quickly around the corner and through the door. Shawn crawled after him. He ignored the splendor of being behind the scenes in a Starbucks to push himself to his feet, moving quickly towards the exit with Carlton.

Carlton pushed the door open slowly, waiting for the sound of another gunshot. There was only silence. "The cops are going to show up soon," Shawn said with calm realization. They'd have to give their statements. There was no way Henry hadn't reported him missing by now. And Carlton was armed with a gun he wasn't licensed to carry in this state. They'd be taken in, held captive until their hunters came for them. "We need to get out of here before that happens." 

Carlton slid out the door carefully and into the street. "I know." Shawn followed Carlton out, letting the door swing shut behind him. "But they're positioned between us and our car."

A smoothly-accented voice said suddenly, "I may be able to help with that."

Shawn jumped with a small, startled yelp. Carlton's reaction was much more confident – he wheeled about quickly, his gun almost seeming to appear in his hands as he pointed it at the stranger with an audible click as he cocked it. The man's hands were in the air, empty. "You're Carlton and Shawn, correct?" He looked between them, relatively calm for someone who had a gun aimed at him. "Lightly sent me." He glanced between them, behind them. "They're going to be coming soon. We need to go." He looked directly at Carlton. "Now."

Carlton quickly put his gun back in his holster. Shawn let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Lead the way."

They raced down the mostly empty street, following the stranger in front of them. Shawn's knee creaked in protest after the solid bang it had gotten earlier, but he kept pushing it. Refusing to fall behind, to get one or two or all of them shot because of his own lack of athletic ability.

They rounded the next corner carefully before the stranger waved them closer, indicating they should follow. Shawn limped after looking behind to make sure that they weren't being followed. "We'll get in my car and go hide somewhere in the city. In a few hours, they'll have cleared out, and we can come back and get your things."

"My car?" Carlton asked quickly, not even pausing to consider it.

"Mine's a rental, so we'll be taking that as well if it's not been somehow disabled." He slowed to a walk, head going in small movements, searching for trouble, the same as both of them. "If it is, then I must ask you to look the other way when we do something not-quite-legal with the rental."

Carlton didn't answer, but Shawn could see his disapproval easily. To be fair, it wasn't that hard. Carlton wasn't one for hiding his emotions, so far as Shawn could tell. They stopped at a gray car that Shawn would have fought to give a description to if they'd somehow lost it in a parking lot. "Shotgun," Shawn said quickly, earning him an amused look from the man holding the keys and a glare from Carlton who reluctantly nodded.

Shawn wondered if Carlton realized it was so he could get a better look at their apparent savior. The more he knew, the less surprised they could be later. He slid into the passenger seat, watching the deft movements of the driver as he put the key in the ignition and started the car. "Got a name, stranger?"

That earned him a sideways look and an amused smile. "Should hope so."

"Want to share with the class?" Shawn asked as they backed up. Carlton fumbled to put his seatbelt on, and Shawn glanced behind him. Seated behind the driver, Carlton was still tense, worried, eyes flicking between the outside and the driver to try and ascertain danger from any and all directions. Shawn pulled his own gaze away to look at the man sitting next to him.

He had dark blue eyes, neatly-kept dishwater hair, and a round, friendly face that seemed to have quite a nice smile just beneath a thick mustache. Shawn immediately began searching for deeper details but was surprised when his appearance gave away practically nothing. His body language said casual, but the suit he wore said professionalism. He wasn't wearing any rings – not married, then – but that was pretty much it. Shawn thought he seemed unflappable. He hadn't been panicking because of the gunfire, hadn't flinched when Carlton pulled his gun, hadn't reacted desperately to being out of control at all. He seemed cool, calm, more collected than the both of them had been capable of being since they'd met in South Dakota. It was nice, even though Shawn was still incredibly suspicious of him. "Pierre Despereaux."

"I'm Shawn Spencer, and that man back there is my-"

"Carlton Lassiter," Carlton interrupted as if anticipating Shawn's half-hysteria-inspired silliness. "You were late."

"I was on time," Pierre replied easily. "I sought cover once the gunfire started."

"They were shooting at you," Shawn said, suddenly sure that he was right. Pierre gave a small nod, his eyes and attention still on the road. "Why?"

"They anticipated my arrival making their success somewhat more difficult."

"They knew you were coming," Carlton said, his voice growling with unspoken accusation.

"Unlikely," Pierre spared a look through the rearview mirror. "But I am known well enough in their circles that when they saw me, they couldn't risk my being there to help."

"They know you?" Shawn couldn't help the way he leaned towards Pierre in his seat.

"To date, I've helped 32 people like you in one way or another to escape their hunters. My friends and I are on all of their wanted lists." Pierre's smile was smug, proud in a way that seemed to say he'd earned it. "You're here, safe with me, and their game just got a hell of a lot harder if you do as I say."

"And what makes you an expert?" Carlton asked with a bite to his voice.

Pierre shrugged, clearly not bothered as he answered, "I survived. And I've helped others survive as well. An expert? Not at all. But I do have some vague idea of what needs to be done, and that's more than most can say. You can either trust me or remain suspicious and put us all in danger. Every hesitation is a weakness, and we can't afford them at the present moment. Not if the hunters are in the city."

Shawn saw Carlton relax out of the corner of his eye, and he took that as a cue that they'd be trying the trusting route for the time being. Not that they had much of a choice unless they wanted to be abandoned on the streets miles away from where they parked. "So. How are you going to be helping us?" Shawn asked. Conversation would keep him distracted from the reality of bullets and windows breaking and the distinct sound of someone on the other side of the coffee shop crying. He shook his head, pushed the memories away as best he could.

"I'll be coming along with you to give you advice and act as protection. I'll also be willing to shoulder part of the stress. I'll drive, get supplies, whatever it is you need of me within reason. I also have more than enough money to take care of any and all needs until we're done with this, and I have connections – both personal and professional – who are willing to assist us at any time."

"And you're doing all of this out of the goodness of your heart," Carlton sounded skeptical, but Shawn was grateful for it. "There's absolutely no chance someone could buy us from you."

Pierre's pleasant smile fell into a frown as he looked up in the rearview mirror again. "None. I don't expect you to believe that so quickly, but I give you my solemn word, there is nothing that could make me deliver you to your pursuers."

Shawn got a look at Carlton's expression. Disbelieving and definitely unhappy, but the older man remained silent, turning his eyes to the window. Shawn settled back in his seat, swinging his legs out and cringing at the lingering ache in his knee. "Where are you taking us?"

"Museum," Pierre answered without any hesitation. "Safest place in almost every city. Secure, watched, expansive, and quiet enough to hear."

Shawn frowned at the idea of being stuck in a museum for several hours while they waited for the bad guys to clear out, but he said nothing. Pierre conviction was enough to inspire some confidence for the time being, though Shawn was very aware that he'd rather trust Carlton than this new part of the equation.

But they'd promised to stick together, to try and take Lightly's help. He could at least give it an afternoon before telling Carlton they were better off without.

\-----

Shawn had made an uncomfortable discovery by the time they decided to leave the museum: Pierre Despereaux was fun. They spent three hours walking from room to room, looking at paintings, sculptures, and collections of stuff from around the world, and in three hours, Shawn decided he liked the guy much more than he wanted to. He wanted to be on his guard, careful, suspicious, but Pierre's easy attitude was laced with something else. Something that reminded Shawn of James Bond – suave and dangerous, explosions and sex.

The only hitch in his sudden plan to let Pierre help without a fight was Carlton. In the middle of conversations, Shawn caught himself looking to Carlton for some sort of signal of trust or approval, but the older man only gave him cold glares and scowls that could have leveled mountains. "Cheer up, buttercup," Shawn said when he dropped back from walking with Pierre to walk next to Carlton. Pierre paused just outside of the exit doors, tense, waiting and watching before he finally waved Shawn and Carlton after him.

"I'm sorry, but did you forget we were shot at a few hours ago?" Carlton scowled as they followed Pierre out.

Shawn shook his head, "Dude, no. Of course not. Eidetic memory, remember? I don't forget anything." Carlton's scowl deepened, and Shawn sighed. "Joking, Carlton."

"Doesn't seem like the time for joking around to me."

"No, it wouldn't." Shawn nudged him slightly with his elbow, smiling. "But that's fine, though. Really." Carlton was wound up a little too tight for his own good, but it made Shawn feel safe in a way he'd never admit to. Carlton could look at the scary reality of everything without flinching, without having to deflect it like Shawn had to. Knowing that was on his team, sleeping next to him in the hotel beds helped him sleep at night when he'd thought he'd never have another good night for the rest of his short life.

Carlton shook his head, "Of course it is. Someone has to take this seriously."

"And someone has to keep you sane by putting some sort of fun in your general area at least once a week." Shawn grinned at Carlton's agitated glare, bouncing the next few steps. Pretending was easy. Keep himself busy with small bouts of silliness. 

In the quieter moments of the last few hours, he'd found himself remembering, unable to stop the flood of memories once it started. The coffee cup sitting on the cabinet had tipped over, spilling swirls of white and brown over onto the counter and floor. The bullet hole on the wall next to their table was just above where Carlton's head had been. And the people. Every small thing remained with him, reminding him of that feeling of fear and helplessness. And if he thought about it for too long, he thought he'd really lose it.

Carlton's elbow bumped into his, drawing him away from the overwhelming memories. When Shawn looked at him, he couldn't tell if it had been on purpose or not. Before he could ask – and he fully intended to ask – Pierre called out, "Are you in such a hurry to get back to your things, or can we afford lunch first?"

Shawn was about to answer in favor of food when he felt Carlton's hand on his arm, silently asking him to be quiet. He didn't realize he'd agreed until Carlton said, "The sooner we can get to our stuff, the better."

Pierre shrugged, kept walking towards his car, flipping the keyring around his index finger. "Fine by me."

\-----

They left Pierre's car parked several blocks away and took off in Carlton's. Carlton seemed even more tense behind the wheel as he looked at the destruction their presence had caused. Shawn couldn't blame him. The Starbucks looked broken, dark and empty and just plain sad. He sat in the back seat, his book in his hands. He thumbed through the pages idly, listening as Pierre and Carlton debated their next destination.

They were on the road headed south, Carlton and Pierre still arguing. Carlton's voice was beginning to get heated, but Pierre's remained in a smooth cadence, as easy as it had been since he'd given his first offer of help.

Shawn opened up the book, flipping to the dog-eared page he'd been on last. His hands froze when he saw the page. "Guys?" His voice was too soft, lost in the bickering of the front seat.

"The kid wants to go to New York."

"And we'll get there eventually, I assure you. But they won't be expecting us to head south. Hot, isolated, and empty. That would be a monumental mistake."

"Which is why you're telling us to do it."

"Precisely."

"Carlton. Pierre," he said again, his hands shaking slightly, the book's pages fluttering in his grip. When they didn't stop, Shawn spoke up, "Guys!" Carlton's eyes immediately met his through the rearview mirror, and Pierre turned halfway to get a good look at him from his seat in the front.

He held up the book to show off the yin-yang symbol that had been drawn in pen on the folded corner of the page. "I think this might mean something."


	8. Chapter 8

The look on Despereaux's face was far from promising. Carlton forced himself to focus on the road and the traffic around him, all the while listening to the man next to him collect his thoughts. "Keeping in mind that it could easily be someone trying to fool us... that calling card is indeed familiar."

"Familiar how?" Carlton asked through gritted teeth. If Shawn had been somehow marked... No. That had happened back in Santa Barbara. This was different. Their hunters were toying with them. Telling them how close they had really gotten.

"They leave these marks to let their rabbits know they're closing in. It's meant to frighten you. Make you make mistakes."

"So you know who's coming after us, then?" Carlton hadn't known Shawn long enough to be sure, but he was almost certain it was fear in the younger man's eyes. Fear maybe, but the determination? Carlton was about 90% sure on that. He had seen the same look when Shawn had been intent on seducing him.

Despereaux nodded, "As well as one can with vipers like these. They go by Mr. Yin and Mr. Yang. Two sociopaths who were absolutely made for each other. They tend to go after two people at a time from the same area, try to best each other by killing their quarry first. Every now and again they'll hunt together. Orchestrate some sort of group fleeing. It's too soon for that again for them."

"We met up by accident," Carlton pointed out.

"They could make you think that if they deemed it worth their time, but they would have revealed themselves before now, I should think, if this had been planned." Despereaux fell silent for long minutes before he continued, "Together, they're nearly unstoppable. Whatever lengths the one won't go to, the other one will."

"So getting them to give up will be difficult," Carlton summarized with a scowl.

"Fairly, I'm afraid. But not impossible. Yang isn't above conceding defeat when it's been well earned, and their influence is the only thing that could pull Yin away from the chase. Work any angle we can on Yang, and we can probably get you back safe and sound to Santa Barbara."

"How?" Shawn leaned forward in his seat, eyes riveted upon the symbol in his book as if it might tell him how to get out of this alive. "How would we convince Yang?"

"Chess."

"That's all?"

"In a manner of speaking," Despereaux turned to talk to Shawn, and Carlton rolled his eyes, fighting back the frustration. It was obvious that Shawn's fears of being left behind were more than a bit unfounded. If Despereaux left anyone in the dust, it was going to be Carlton. In the few hours they'd known him, Despereaux had gone from being amused with Shawn to being almost enraptured by him.

When Carlton thought that all-seeing Shawn might see that and decide to make an offer to the other man, he felt something deep in his gut twist. Envy at their sudden closeness, yes, and perhaps a bit of disgust at the idea of the barely-legal-if-at-all Shawn being with someone much older than him.

There was also the fact they were both men which didn't bother Carlton as much as he'd pretended back in South Dakota. But it had kept Shawn from making repeat offers, and that had made this whole trek much, much easier.

He shook his head and forced himself to listen. He wasn't pining after a teenager that he'd known for a few days. No way in hell. He was concerned. He had a right to be. Shawn was almost a friend if Carlton had friends. Carlton was allowed to think the kid was making a huge mistake getting too close to Despereaux.

"Yang will be willing to concede defeat if they think someone has beaten them fair and square. If we can outsmart them, they'll give us the victory."

"You're so sure of that?" Carlton refused to stop being a skeptic. Whatever it took to get out of all of this in one piece.

"Yes, I am." Despereaux spared him a look, amused in an irritating way. "Believe me. It'll take time and careful planning, but now I know what we're up against. If these are, indeed, Yin and Yang."

"And if they aren't?" Shawn asked, setting his book aside and looking damn near eager as he sat forward in the back seat, elbows on his knees. "Who else might it be that's chasing us?"

"Good question. There are several known pairs of hunters, many of whom might forge the calling card of another in order to throw the helpers off their scent." He continued talking, and Carlton listened while he focused on driving. It was informative, but he couldn't help notice the subtle shifts in tone when Despereaux addressed Shawn.

Christ. This was going to be the longest roadtrip of his life.

\-----

They stopped in Albuquerque for the night, Despereaux driving while Shawn prattled on with him in the front seat. Carlton closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to drown out his worrying thoughts with something logical. He had no reason to distrust Despereaux, and the kid was smart. A little too trusting, maybe. Then again, maybe not. At dinner, he had shied away from casual touches, his smile firmly in place, sending all the right signals for _everything is fine_ even as he continued to keep his distance.

He was definitely smarter than Carlton gave him credit for.

"Y'know, you can come into the room." Shawn leaned on the railing next to him while Carlton watched the sky on the balcony outside of their hotel room.

"Looking for stars."

"Never find them this close to a big city," Shawn sighed. "That was the one thing I didn't mind about camping as a kid. Looking up at the stars with Gus." Carlton remained silent. Shawn hadn't willingly given up personal information without expecting reciprocation. But this quiet moment was nice. Peaceful. Verging on normal, even. "He's my best friend in the whole, wide world." Shawn laughed softly after a moment, as if remembering. "He knew all the stories for the constellations. I used to insist he was wrong just to make him mad. Make up my own and see if he'd believe me."

"Did he?"

"At first. Sometimes. We kept getting older, and he kept getting smarter. But he kept putting up with me." Shawn's smile dimmed slightly. "I miss him."

"Yeah?"

Shawn nodded. He looked as if he might have something else to say, but he kept quiet instead. The low hum of insects kept the silence bearable, and they were both content for the moment to relax in the quiet evening. Then, Shawn said, "We could've died today."

"You could die any day, Shawn." If there was one thing he'd learned as an officer, that was it. One day of work, one piece of scum, one bullet, and it was all over. "But we got close today."

"Doesn't it make you want to... like. Take chances? Go out and live? Jump out of planes and drive way too fast and just keep going. Never looking back."

"No." Carlton leaned against the railing next to him, looking at the shape of the moon and the light playing on the clouds near it. He could honestly say the idea of going – running away and never taking responsibility for himself – had never appealed to him. He had seen his brother do it. Had seen his father leave so very long ago. It solved nothing. Just hurt those you left behind. "I have a wife and a family. And a job." Shawn's short snort of a laugh sounded like the second cousin to a scoff. "You have Gus. You'd leave him behind and go out and do... what exactly? Be an adrenaline junkie and make stupid decisions and call it living."

"He could come with me."

"Would he?"

Shawn's smile twitched as if it might fall away or grow and couldn't decide in which direction to go. "No. He wouldn't." He pushed himself up. "But that's his problem. Not mine."

"I guess it is now." He glanced back towards the room. "Where's Despereaux?"

"He went downstairs to smoke. I wanted to ask you something. While we have a minute."

Carlton raised an eyebrow. Shawn didn't ask for permission to talk. He just did. "Yeah?"

Shawn shifted, looking almost uncomfortable. "Can I still sleep with you? Not that I don't trust him, but..." He peered up at Carlton who was happier than he'd admit that Shawn wasn't choosing Despereaux over him in every instance. At least not yet.

"Sure."

As if sensing the moment was getting too serious, Shawn fluttered his eyelashes with a sly smile. "Can we cuddle?" Carlton rolled his eyes and pushed him away before heading towards the room. Shawn followed after him, laughing, "That wasn't a no!"

\-----

Carlton woke early the same way he had been since he'd picked Shawn up only to find that someone was up earlier than him. Despereaux lounged on his bed, wearing somewhat more casual clothing that still managed to make him look unbearably sophisticated and unruffled. If not for Shawn snoring quietly on the far side of the bed, Carlton might've said something. Instead he silently got up and went about his morning routine, disregarding the added chaos and taking care of himself.

By the time he was done, Shawn was awake, sprawled out over their bed and laughing with Despereaux. "Hurry up. It's not long until sunrise, and I'd rather get out of here."

"Jeeze, okay, Dad." Shawn rolled his eyes as Despereaux chuckled. Shawn rolled off the bed, grabbed his things, and headed for the bathroom. Carlton worked at packing up his own bag, ignoring the patter of water when it started, ignoring the other man as he slid to his feet.

Well. Not ignoring. He listened carefully to the near-silent footsteps as they neared. The rustle of cloth and a quiet breath. "Back off," he growled, his hand twitching with sudden want to grab his gun.

"I merely wanted to discuss our destinations with you."

"You can do it from over there."

"You do know that in the unlikely event of a betrayal, I'm not so likely to put an actual knife in your back," Despereaux sounded far too amused as he backed away, sitting back on the edge of his bed.

"I don't like people trying to sneak up on me." Carlton turned around, liking the wall near his back and his eyes facing the obvious source of unrest. "Ask Shawn. He's lucky I didn't kill him when we met."

"Would you have?" Despereaux raised an eyebrow.

"Without a second thought."

Despereaux frowned and said quietly, "Lying does not become you, Carlton."

"You think I'm lying?" Carlton shook his head, trying to smile and not let Despereaux see the truth. "That's funny."

"You're quick to point your gun, but not so fast to pull the trigger. You've a good head on you. You should be proud of it."

"And I would. Were we not running from psychos who are hunting us down and doing whatever they can to rattle our cage." He straightened his old jacket, feeling it conform to his body, worn time and again until it molded to him just right. "I will shoot whoever I have to. Just because I didn't kill you and Shawn doesn't change that."

Despereaux nodded and stood, picking up his own things and quickly taking them to his suitcase to pack. "So long as you understand restraint, you are already a step ahead of your pursuers."

"Any particular reason you're trying to flatter me?"

Despereaux laughed. "I suppose so. We're going to be stuck in small spaces with each other for quite some time. It would be much more bearable if you didn't hate me quite as much."

Carlton frowned at him, silent as he did a quick check over his luggage one last time before zipping it back up. "You want my trust?" He met Despereaux's eyes, growling, "Then earn it."


	9. Chapter 9

If Shawn'd had a normal childhood with vacations and roadtrips, he might have thought that the current atmosphere of the car was leaning more towards familiar, friendly silences. Almost like they were doing this for fun instead of running for their lives. Gus had told him stories often enough that he was willing to be that maybe they were starting to get used to each other.

When Carlton drove, Shawn usually rode shotgun, reading passages from his book aloud. His fingers kept subconsciously rubbing the yin-yang symbol drawn on the corner of page 167. He would talk to Carlton, keep his mind occupied, draw him out of his shell as best he could.

But inevitably, Pierre would insist on taking over. Then, it was a gamble. If Shawn stayed up front, they talked about nothing. The words didn't mean anything. Mindless chatter interspersed with teasing and subtle flirting that had Shawn feeling fluttery and excited until he turned his head enough to see the expression on Carlton's face. Sitting up, lying down, tense or relaxed, he always looked so sour and unhappy that Shawn felt as if he should back off.

Carlton had a wife back home, Shawn reminded himself. He had to miss her. Shawn caught him rubbing his ring finger every now and then like he still wasn't used to not wearing it.

He wondered idly what happened to it, but they had been getting along well after Albuquerque. He didn't want to risk angering Carlton over something that didn't matter anymore.

Sometimes, when Pierre drove, Carlton rode in front. They listened to the radio, talked strategy and destinations. Shawn listened half-heartedly before usually falling asleep or busying himself with something else. He could tell they were only tolerating each other, knew those tones of voices and conversations avoiding direct topics as well as he knew all of Henry's lessons by heart.

He wondered if they would be amused or offended if he told them that they reminded him of his parents the last few years before the divorce.

When Shawn drove, the two traded off at almost every stop. Carlton began working on his crossword puzzles, asking for help when he couldn't find an answer. Sometimes, Pierre would answer, looking up from his books, maps, or notes in the back seat. Most of the time, though, Shawn answered instantly, spelled it out, usually rambled on some barely-related tangent while Carlton filled it in.

He always looked a bit amazed whenever Shawn knew an obscure answer without having to think or search for it. The way he glanced at Shawn made his stomach twist, his head feeling light as he turned his focus back on the road, playing the brief glance back over and over again in his mind. Surprised, seeming impressed, and a hint of something that looked almost like pride.

He held onto it, kept it close but refused to let on how good that look made him feel. He didn't want to point it out to Carlton then have him reject him, to stop and rein himself in. Shawn was content to have those looks, to feel that elation. Anything else and he was afraid he'd be trying to take too much. That he'd lose it all.

When Pierre rode up front with him, they did much the same as they did when they'd traded spots in the front seat. Teased, flirted, chatted easily until Shawn caught that look coming from the back seat, and he inevitably steered them towards more difficult topics. Anything to keep Carlton from looking that angry.

They wound their way south and east, through New Mexico and down into Texas. Once they reached San Antonio, Shawn began to plead to keep going to the Gulf of Mexico. He desperately missed the ocean, and the chance to see it again gave him hope in a way he couldn't quite define. Pierre gave him a slightly amused smile, the sort Shawn was starting to read as an I'll-humor-you expression before agreeing.

Night after night, he slept in the same bed as Carlton, feeling safe and secure knowing he was near.

\-----

Shawn looked out over the flat of the Gulf and felt somehow cheated. The water flowed up to the beach the way it was supposed to, but there were no curling waves, no gull cries. In fact, the beach was far more pebbly than sandy, and it made him feel farther from home than he had in a long time.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, "You're upset."

"I thought maybe..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Except it does," Pierre insisted. "If it didn't matter, you wouldn't've asked." He looked out over the water. "And if I didn't think it mattered, we would have stayed the course to Dallas with no detours."

"Carlton would have brought me." Shawn wasn't sure why he said it that way – with a pout and his arms crossed. It was true, though. If he'd wanted it, had asked Carlton directly for it even if Pierre said no, they would have come with or without their guide.

"I could have persuaded him," Pierre's thumb rubbed a comforting circle on Shawn's shoulder. Shawn shivered but said nothing. "I do know what I'm talking about, Shawn. This was a risk worth taking. If I didn't think so, we wouldn't be here."

Shawn looked at him critically. The salty wind was playing with his hair, pushing it away from his face. His eyes met Shawn's, and Shawn looked away. "Whatever you say goes, then?"

"That's my job. I'm here to direct you as best I can. All variables considered." His hand moved, tracing its way up to Shawn's neck. He grasped it lightly, thumb moving against his bare skin. When Pierre spoke next, it was low, almost too quiet compared to the sounds from the nearby water, "You two are a danger to each other."

"Are we?" He tried to sound disinterested, wanting badly to shrug Pierre off, but he was too comforted by physical affection. He hadn't had anyone really touch him since before he'd met Carlton, and he missed it.

"Traveling alone you don't have to worry about anyone else. So what if another rabbit gets captured or killed? You look out for yourself and no one else. If it were just you and I," Shawn looked at him sharply, but Pierre's expression didn't change as he continued, "or Carlton and myself, and something were to happen to me, you could continue on with no guilt. Knowing I brought it on myself and did what I promised I would when things go too far south."

"But you two," he continued, hand still pressing in a way that was surely meant to be comforting but felt too much like possession for Shawn to allow it for much longer. "If something happened to one of you, there's nothing that would stop you from trying to get back to him."

"You're wrong," Shawn said. Pierre's grip tightened, fingers digging into his skin. Shawn gasped and arched up, held still by the harsh touch.

"No," Pierre murmured. "I'm not."

Shawn wrenched out of his grip, glaring at the taller man. "What's your professional opinion, Pierre? I'm supposed to stop-" He paused, took a breath and looked to make sure that Carlton was still a far ways off, watching the water and looking vaguely lost. "Stop caring about him?"

"My professional opinion would be for the two of you to split up. Each go your own way, let Carlton get another guide, and when this is over, go back to Santa Barbara and perhaps see if you feel the same when your lives aren't on the line." He held up a hand to stop Shawn from replying. "I know it's not so simple. My personal opinion?" His hand touched Shawn's gently. "He's a married man who wants to get home to his old life as soon as possible. I can't possibly see a boy like you fitting into his world. You'll survive only to have your heart broken, and you deserve better than that."

Shawn drew his hand back, took a step away and glanced over towards Carlton who was standing, stomping their way with a fierce look on his face. "What is this?"

"Some friendly advice. And an offer, Shawn. Surviving only to find misery on the other side – you'll live, but you'll wish you hadn't." His expression was sober, sad in a way that said he knew too well.

"What the hell's going on over here?" Carlton slipped into the conversation, and Shawn stepped closer to him, wary of Pierre as he smiled. Friendly, aloof, completely normal compared to how he'd been acting just seconds before.

"A conversation."

Carlton looked at Shawn, obviously searching to see if he was all right. Shawn felt that fluttering in his chest and stomach, but Pierre's words rang loudly in his ears. Getting too close, caring. Even Carlton had warned him off of it when they'd met. That was the way it was supposed to be. He shrugged with a smile. "Just talking."

Carlton frowned, obviously not believing him, but before he could demand more, Shawn had shoved his hands in his pockets, said, "I think we're done here," and walked back towards the car.

\-----

In Dallas, they met up with one of Lightly's other contacts. Ewing dressed sharp – black suit, dark shades, overall air of coolness that Shawn could never even hope to achieve in his lifetime. He got only progressively cooler as the day went on in spite of the roomy old-people's car he offered up in exchange for Carlton's and the general no-nonsense attitude that was more grating than impressive.

It was cool, he reflected, being betrayed like that. Classic action movie. One moment, they were standing over the car, negotiating other supplies. Leading Shawn to believe that while Ewing worked for the government, he most certainly wasn't part of Lightly's task force. Then the door opened behind them, and Ewing sighed with a frown, looking over his sunglasses at them and saying, "Sorry about this, Pierre," just before Shawn turned around and saw who was standing at the door.

He only caught the briefest glance of Yang's shark-like smile before the room exploded into smoke, his eyes and lungs burning with it. He pulled the collar of his shirt up over his mouth and nose quickly, spitting on it to wet it against the smoke. His body moved automatically towards the exit he'd seen when they'd walked in.

Realized that he wasn't sure if Carlton had seen it too and hoped desperately that he had. He couldn't go back, couldn't risk getting caught by those two. He shouldered the door open and stepped into clean air. Turning quickly, he tried to see inside only to hear the sounds of guns being fired.

Shawn froze, unable to imagine (and yet seeing it all too well) what would happen if Carlton were to die in the firefight. His hands twitched, his body leaning towards the smoke pouring out of the door. He could go back in, he could-

A dark form loomed at the door, interrupting his thoughts. Ewing had a wet washcloth held over his face, his other hand grasping a gun as his eyes narrowed, noting Shawn and raising his gun.

What else could he do but run? Shots zinged off the walls of the alley as he raced towards the street. His heart sank when he realized it was deserted. They were isolated, in a nearly empty part of town, buildings run down and the streets void of life except for a single stray cat nosing through a nearby dumpster.

Sudden pain – red hot, like being burned all the way through – seared up his leg, and Shawn yelped in pain, falling against the nearest wall as his leg gave out. He rolled himself back, staring at Ewing who was calmly reloading his clip. "You're coming with me, Mr. Spencer."

Shawn, breathing hard as he tried to keep himself focused on the man in front of him and not the pain in his leg, sneered, "I don't think so."

"I'm afraid you don't have an option." He leveled the gun at Shawn, and Shawn's heart leaped, racing in terror before sudden calm overtook him.

"Except I do. You're not one of them. You can't kill me." He started limping backwards, the pain making darkness swim on the edges of his vision. Ewing's aim lowered.

"Take one more step," he dared. "One more, and I'll blow your other leg out from under you."

"Not a fucking chance," Carlton snarled from the doorway, his gun steadied in his hands as he fired a single sure-fire shot into Ewing's chest. The bullet passed through, buried itself in the alley wall as he dropped to the ground. Shawn's eyes widened as he looked at Carlton, noting the red staining his shirt and wanting to ask, but his voice was nowhere to be found.

Carlton was to him in an instant, grabbing Shawn's arm on his wounded side and looping it over his shoulder. "Lean on me. It's fine. It's going to be fine."

Shawn obeyed, looking at the obvious wound on Carlton's opposite shoulder, feeling his stomach clench. His stepped became dizzy, blood loss and pain making his head swim. "Stay with me, Shawn. Come on. Talk. You're always talking. Talk to me." Shawn gripped onto him tightly.

"What about Yin and Yang and- and you've been shot. I've been shot," he said wonderingly. "I really was, and it hurts, and they're coming. Carlton," he looked up at him with a feeling of total helplessness, "we're going to die."

"No. We're not. Despereaux – he was keeping them busy. Letting us get somewhere else and hide." His head jerked up, looking at one of the nearby buildings, the windows already broken and the front door hanging off its hinge. "Here."

The rooms were bare, breaking down, covered in graffiti and trash. Carlton sat him down next to a wall, tearing off his jacket and holster, throwing them nearby as he tore his shirt off as best he could. He pressed the wad of cloth against Shawn's leg tightly. Part of Shawn knew he needed to stop the bleeding, but the rest of him hurt, and he tried to wriggle away before Carlton's hand pinned him to the wall. "Stop. You're not going anywhere."

Shawn took a moment looked over the wound on Carlton's shoulder. Not a bullet wound, but something else. He'd scraped it on something hard enough to draw blood probably while fumbling around in the smoke. Shawn felt like a coward for running, remembering that their hunters were so close and Pierre was fighting for them and Ewing could have killed him.

Could have let him be killed.

He could be dead, but instead it was Ewing because Carlton had been there, had saved him, and Shawn remembered the look in the man's eyes – cold, merciless, just over the top of his shades. So very cool as he threatened Shawn's life. Guns and bullets, pain and death, and everything so very real. 

Oh _god_.

He turned his head and leaned over, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ruined floor. His body shook, trembled with fear and adrenaline, the need to give up and the need to keep running flooding him as he threw up bile.

Carlton rubbed his back gently, other hand still keeping his wadded up shirt firmly in place. "Shawn?"

"'m fine," he insisted, leaning back against the wall. "They might find us."

"They might," he agreed, but his attention was so wholly focused on Shawn. That fluttery feeling was now tinged with fear and dread, and he was somehow calm enough to work through the panic in his head.

"If I didn't just throw up, I think I'd kiss you."

Carlton's laugh sounded strained, and his smile was still full of fear and uncertainty. He put both hands on his shirt, holding it still. "Thanks for being so considerate."

"Well, you did just kill a guy for me. It's the least I can do."

Carlton laughed again. "Come on. We better move you before that puddle catches up with you." He nodded towards the spreading grossness on the opposite side. He helped Shawn to his feet, and they toddled over to another room. Carlton sat next to Shawn, holding the wound on his leg all the while.

Shawn couldn't help leaning into him, his eyes closing as he listened for the sounds of fighting or approaching feet. And he thought that if these were going to be his last moments, at least Carlton was here beside him.


	10. Chapter 10

He sat on the floor of the dilapidated building holding Shawn and listening carefully for any hint of what was going on beyond the walls. He had gone back to get his jacket and holster after getting Shawn settled, putting the jacket on and letting the holster drape across his legs, gun within easy reach. He was tempted to go out and find Despereaux or Yin or Yang and put an end to all of this. Was tempted to leave Shawn and go search for a way out. Was tempted by anything that wasn't thinking too hard about what Shawn had said.

Fear and adrenaline could do weird things to people, make them think they wanted something they didn't. Shawn had already admitted to needing to feel alive at the realization that he could die, and Carlton didn't think this brush with their killers would end any differently.

And god, was it tempting. To just give in, let himself have this, have something good before they were found and killed.

But when the moment passed, when they could look back on it later, he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself, taking advantage of Shawn like that. Couldn't let himself be that selfish.

But this, he supposed, was nice even though they weren't in the clear yet. The floor was far from comfortable, too, but Shawn had stopped bleeding, and the pulsing wound in his own shoulder wasn't aching as badly as before. He'd banged it on the car when he'd ducked for cover, shattered glass tearing into it before he'd managed to find the exit.

Remembering Ewing threatening Shawn like that had made his blood run cold, and Carlton kept replaying the moment of his own shot over and over again. He'd been required in the line of duty to shoot several people, and the older cops insisted it never got any easier. But shooting Ewing had been easy. One of the easiest decisions of his life.

That had to be a cousin to what Yin and Yang were doing to them. How many degrees of separation were there between killing for someone you cared for and hunting down teenagers for sport? He imagined that it wasn't a very far gap, but he'd always been a pessimist that way.

"How much longer until sunset?"

"Hours." He didn't need to look at his watch to know that. Ewing had set the time, had set everything up perfectly to hand them over to Yin and Yang. "It doesn't look good."

"Yeah," Shawn agreed, pressing closer against him. They rested quietly together for what felt like a long time, enjoying relative peace and serenity. A motor started up, and a car rolled down the road. Several more rolled by eventually, all of them probably oblivious to what had gone on earlier. Shawn suddenly giggled, and Carlton looked over at him, surprised by how happy he looked. "He set it up perfectly. The cops should've been here by now, but no one's probably even called it in. He set everything up just exactly right, and-" He paused, laughing again, harder, "And he _died_."

Carlton nodded, letting Shawn laugh his hysteria out. "That he did."

"God, that has to suck," Shawn giggled again, leaning heavily on Carlton.

"It's going to suck for us if you get us caught." Carlton nudged his ribs with his elbow, earning him a small shove in return. "Hush. We'll stay here until sundown if we have to, and we'll figure what to do from there."

"I vote we get a car," Shawn said seriously. "And get me to someone who can pull the bullet out of my leg." He looked down at it, sounding disappointed, "It hurts."

"Getting shot usually does."

"Have you ever been?" Shawn peered up at him, eyes wide, and Carlton sighed.

"Once. I was wearing a bulletproof vest. If I hadn't been, it probably would've killed me."

"Oh." Shawn frowned, his hand reaching for Carlton's. "I'm glad it didn't kill you. Not sure if I would've made it this far on my own."

Carlton let his fingers lace with Shawn's, needing the comfort just as much as he did. He almost wished that it had. He'd remembered all of the air rushing out of him, felt the pain surge through his body before realizing he hadn't been pierced. One of the older officers had told him that he'd hurt the next day, but he'd never feel more alive.

He supposed it had been true. He had gone home feeling like the world was spinning backwards. Down was up, everything right had been somehow made wrong. And he'd only found stability in bed with Victoria, making love until he couldn't remember the pain and the fear.

But if this was the only other road he could go down – running for his life with no other end in sight except the inevitable – then he wasn't sure it was worth still being here.

It was almost startling how quickly he changed his mind once he considered Shawn. Abandoning him, leaving him to figure everything out on his own? Unthinkable. Worse, somehow, than leaving Santa Barbara, leaving Victoria, leaving everything else to do this.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Shawn? Carlton?" Despereaux's voice startled him, and he looked towards the door, starting to reach for his gun. "I'm alone. They went on. Giving us an hour to get back on our feet before it starts again." He stepped into the room. His clothes were a mess, oil and dirt smudging his face and hands from where he'd been running around the abandoned auto-shop where Ewing had arranged for them to meet.

"Why?" Carlton was immediately suspicious. There was no reason for them to give up so easily, not when Shawn's blood trail had been so obvious that Despereaux had found them without difficulty.

"I arranged a deal of sorts." Carlton's eyes narrowed, and he slowly pulled himself up from Shawn, standing across from Despereaux.

"Oh really." Despereaux nodded, expression grave, and Carlton's hands curled into fists. "And what, exactly, did you tell them they could have?"

"Him."

Carlton stepped forward, twisted the ruined fabric of Despereaux's shirt around his fists, turning them both so he slammed the older man into the wall as hard as he could manage. "Come again?"

"I told them if they let us go for the time being, I would let them have Shawn in a few days. I'd set it up just so, enough to look like an accident, and you and I would carry on with our merry little chase until they gave up or caught us. Fair's fair."

"Shawn," Carlton said calmly, "hand me my gun."

"I was lying, if that affects your decision to kill me at all."

"You could be lying to us," Carlton reasoned, holding out one hand for his gun while the other slid quickly up, forearm lying dangerously firm over Despereaux's throat. Shawn slipped the gun into his hand. "I've killed for him once today. Don't make me do it again. Make me believe you, Despereaux."

"I told you when I found you that you would need to trust me and that there was no price that could be paid that would make me even consider betraying you."

"Not even your own life?"

"No." Despereaux's head tilted up, letting Carlton threaten him without fighting back. "And besides, if I were going to turn you over, what would I have to gain by telling you now? I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Much better than being gunned down in the middle of Texas, I should think."

"And what happens in a few days when you refuse to deliver?"

Despereaux thought for a moment, his expression turning slowly grim. "I'm afraid that matter falls between the two of them and myself."

"It doesn't affect us?" Shawn slowly started to pull himself up the wall, hissing in pain. Carlton's response was immediate – he pulled away from Despereaux, tucked his gun in his belt with the safety on, and helped Shawn stand.

Carlton wasn't so quick to believe him, but Shawn looked as if he might. He bit his tongue, let Shawn drive the conversation. It was his life on the line, not Carlton's. If Shawn didn't think it was worth pursuing... Well.

It was only a matter of time before he could get Despereaux alone and get a real answer out of him one way or another.

"No. The penalty will be mine alone."

"And you think we can trust them to keep their word?" Shawn leaned against Carlton, face twitching as he tried to keep himself from showing that he was in pain. Carlton's grip on him tightened, trying to steady him and keep him from hurting.

"When it comes to you two, yes. I do." He looked them both over, eyes hovering on Shawn's blood-soaked leg. "The rules you four abide by will not be broken."

Carlton saw concern in Shawn's expression, and he held him still even as he tried to take a step towards Despereaux. Shawn shot him a disgruntled glare before turning his attention back to Despereaux. "And you?"

Despereaux shrugged, his lips drawing up into a thin, strained smile. "I've made my choice, Shawn. Not as if I could back out now." His eyes met Carlton's, "Four days. In Jacksonville, Florida. If we go to them, we'll have four days to prepare for the inevitable. I doubt they'll attack before then unless we veer off course."

Carlton wanted to force him to give them more, but Shawn reeled, and Carlton struggled to keep them upright. Shawn hissed through his teeth in pain, jumping slightly in place to try and regain his balance. Despereaux stepped forward, obviously worried now that the injury was bothering him. "What happened?"

"Ewing shot me."

Despereaux's body tensed, his eyes narrowed, and his expression twisted into an angry scowl. "Are you all right?"

"Bleeding's stopped for the most part." He leaned heavily on Carlton. "Think the bullet is still in there? Hurts like hell."

Despereaux nodded, eyes sliding towards Carlton. "And Ewing?"

He couldn't force himself to smile, couldn't think of anything smart or flippant to say about the fact that he'd taken another man's life and felt nothing except a faint sadness over his total lack of remorse. "Gone."

Despereaux nodded, looking between them. "Your car should still be in working order, and I have a first aid kit in my things. We don't have a lot of time left. I don't think they'll attack, but I'd rather be prepared to be wrong about that."

He helped Shawn hobble back to the car, following Despereaux who cast only one look down the alley where Ewing's body lay and continued on without so much as a brief hesitation.

Shawn stretched out in the back seat, legs up in the seat as Despereaux saw to the wound. They put a blanket over his lap as his pants had to come off, and Carlton sat on the far side, Shawn's head in his lap, and Shawn's hand in his. He gave one last look at Despereaux's steady hands and silently thanked God that it wasn't him that had to do the patching up.

By the end of it, he wondered if he didn't have the more difficult job. Keeping Shawn from wriggling, keeping him distracted, making him focus on anything else but what was going on with his leg. "You're going to have to amputate," he tried to joke and smile, but Carlton could see his expression wavering, could see the way his eyes glistened with held-back tears.

"Probably not. But if we have to, we'll steal a peg leg for you." Shawn's fingers tightened on his until Carlton was pretty sure he'd lost all blood flow to them.

"But I'd be a terrible pirate," he whined.

"I can teach you how to sail."

Shawn tried to smile again, but he gasped in sudden pain. Stammered, "I- I appreciate it, Carlton."

Carlton realized his free hand was running unconsciously through Shawn's hair, brushing it soothingly, trying to be a comfort in any way that he could. He didn't stop until Despereaux stood up, blood on his hands and a bullet held between his fingers. "As good as it can get without visiting a hospital. We need to get going."

Shawn nodded, his eyes drooping in exhaustion. Carlton bounced his leg enough to wake him up. "Put some pants on, and you can sleep in the back."

"Pants really necessary?"

"Yes." Shawn gave a put-upon sigh and sat up, examining the white bandages stretched out over his bloody skin. Carlton got out of the car and fished a fresh pair of jeans from Shawn's luggage as well as a shirt from his.

Before too long, they were on the road again, Carlton behind the wheel as they headed south in silence.

\-----

They stopped at a small roadside motel almost as soon as the sun went down. The day's events should have had him exhausted, begging for a peaceful night's sleep, but the only one of them already in bed was Shawn, having drifted off after trying to stay awake and watch something on television.

He had gone outside instead, getting an eyeful as the stars started to come out. He reveled in the relative peace in spite of the fact that his body was still humming with the need to lash out at the people making him feel threatened more and more every day. He was itching for a fight, had been since the shootout.

"Don't suppose you smoke?"

"No." He didn't bother looking at Despereaux as he leaned on the car next to Carlton, lighting the cigarette already hanging out of his mouth. "Cancer sticks," he said sourly after a few minutes of quiet.

Despereaux chuckled, exhaling smoke, "I somehow doubt it's going to be the slow death that gets me in the end."

"You've been pretty indestructible so far." Out of the fight today, he'd been the only one to escape without a significant injury. But then Carlton remembered the deal and the mysterious penalty, and he couldn't help but wonder.

"Yes, well. I've had practice."

Carlton nodded, and they sat in a somewhat companionable silence for a while. Carlton watched the stars, remembering his conversation with Shawn only a few days ago. They'd only been traveling together for a few weeks, but it felt like they'd been together for a long time. His wife, his job, his life back in Santa Barbara seemed like a lifetime ago. A month ago, he wouldn't have shot to kill. Not even to protect someone else unless there was no other option. Ewing wouldn't have killed Shawn except on accident. But Carlton had still aimed dead on. Without a second thought. "I killed him."

"Would've killed me too," Despereaux pointed out after he took a moment to work out Carlton's train of thought.

"You said you were going to turn him over to them."

"And you were more than a bit caught up in the moment." He took another drag, and Carlton sighed, crossing his arms while his gaze remained resolutely skyward.

"Shouldn't Lightly have known?"

Despereaux shrugged – Carlton could see his dark form shifting in the corner of his eye. "Our dear Mr. Lightly has his uses, but he's only as good as his intel. Weak points in the network happen, and there's nothing he or I or any of the others can do about it. It was formed on the backs of those who have been through this sort of thing before, and that, inevitably, causes weaknesses."

Carlton glanced at him, decided to ask, "What's yours?"

Despereaux chuckled again. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath his heel. "Long gone, Carlton. Nothing for you to worry about."

"Then what's going to happen in four days?"

Despereaux met his eyes, his smile fake, a mask of confidence that Carlton saw through. "The problem with bones and secrets is that they can be dug up. Our demons never really leave us – they just wait to be found again." He looked up at the sky for the first time since he stepped out, said casually, "You'll be living with his death for the rest of your life. I suggest not losing sleep over it."

"It's not that easy."

"It is," Despereaux said as he dropped his head back down, eyes moving back towards the room where Shawn slept on, blissfully unaware. "You find ways to live with it." He pushed himself up off the car, moving back towards the room. "I would have made the same choice as you."

Carlton wondered, as the door closed behind Despereaux, if that was meant to be comforting. He turned his head back up and stared at the stars and idly touched his own bandaged shoulder. Guilt sat heavily in his stomach, weighed on his shoulders, and he gave into his misery until exhaustion finally pushed him inside.


	11. Chapter 11

For the next few days, he practically lived off the painkillers Pierre kept in his first-aid kit. Even with them, his leg hurt far more now that the adrenaline and shock had worn off. He regularly had to grit his teeth, wipe the moisture from the corner of his eyes, and keep trekking on, following diligently wherever the other two wanted him to go.

Not that they had him do too much walking. They were being sensitive to his injuries which was as equally annoying as it was nice. Shawn didn't want to be weak enough to have to be cared for, and he stubbornly refused help except in the worst moments.

The ride to Florida was more bleak and grim than any other leg of their trip. Pierre didn't talk about what they were going to, but he had made it clear that no matter what, Shawn and Carlton would be going on. That this didn't concern them.

The more he insisted on that, the more Shawn was convinced that Pierre was wrong. He was, in fact, very concerned. "We won't leave you," he insisted one afternoon when they had a moment of space to themselves.

"That's the thing, isn't it?" Pierre's comforting smile only made Shawn's stomach twist unhappily. "You will if you need to."

Shawn frowned, and he found himself wondering more and more about the strange man that had taken him and Carlton under his wing. The more he tried to read him, the more of a mystery he remained. The night before they were due to arrive in Jacksonville, he asked, "Can you tell me about you?"

"Why?" Pierre asked, amused.

"Because," Shawn shifted on his and Carlton's bed, getting more comfortable. "If something happens tomorrow, and just... if this is it..." He couldn't bring himself to voice his fears that Pierre had signed his death sentence or something equally horrible all for a few more miserable days of living for Shawn and Carlton. "If tomorrow's it, I want to remember you."

"You couldn't forget me if you tried." Pierre smiled, leaning back on his pillows, hands clasped over his stomach.

"You know what I mean," Shawn sighed with a huff, and Pierre laughed quietly. He glanced towards the door where Carlton had vanished an hour earlier, claiming that he needed time to himself. "I don't know anything about you, and I want to, Pierre."

"You really don't," he said, gently warning.

"Please?" Shawn scooted closer to the edge of the bed as Pierre sighed. A small nod, and Shawn's eyes widened, focusing entirely on him.

Pierre watched him, still seeming amused as he talked. "I was born in France, but I grew up in England. We were well off, and I had a fantastic early education, but it was so incredibly dull." Shawn smiled and nodded knowingly. "My mother and father were madly in love, still were the last I heard. But they were so often caught up in their own projects and interests. I don't believe they wanted a child, but they didn't want to get rid of me either." He shrugged, "They loved me in their own way. But a child notices such things. When their parents would prefer to leave them behind. It makes a mark."

"My dad dragged me to everything," Shawn said sourly.

Pierre laughed, "Mine took me along to the theatre and cinema and to museums. Any place where we were discouraged from talking, I think. But I fell in love with art."

"You draw?"

"Not well," Pierre's smile didn't falter. "But you don't have to be able to create in order to appreciate the beauty and work that goes into a piece. I learned so much, but I could never recreate any of it on my own terms. It simply isn't in me. I never went to university. I made my living doing odd jobs here and there until I found my calling."

"Helping wayward rabbits run and hide?" Shawn raised his eyebrows.

Pierre gave an unabashed grin. "Not for a long while yet. No, my passions and talents were best put to use elsewhere." Shawn leaned forward expectantly, grinning now that some of the mystery was about to be revealed to him. He almost slipped off the edge of the bed and scrambled to sit back up before he fell off the edge in his excitement.

"Elsewhere?"

Pierre nodded, "A friend of mine had something stolen from her, and a group of us infiltrated the perpetrator's house to take it back. Everyone else remained on watch while I did the dirty work. I was quite good at it actually. I set out to learn a trade without even realizing it. Picking locks, moving silently, deciding when and how to approach the problem. It was harmless fun at first. I practiced on my friends, stole innocent little baubles then gave them back. One of them eventually wanted me to acquire something for them, offered to pay me a fee if I could do it without being caught." His grin widened slightly. "It was the start of a glorious career."

"You were a thief," Shawn smiled, unsure of why it suited him so well, all the pieces falling neatly into place in his head.

"I was. People paid me to acquire things, and I did by whatever means necessary. Eventually, I made a name for myself as an art thief. Jewelry, paintings, other works. I was fairly infamous." He sounded proud of himself, his smile still unashamedly bright. "No one could catch me, and as my name spread, so did my clients. Taunting the local authorities became another part of my job, in a way. Making sure they knew who was responsible even if they couldn't otherwise prove it."

Shawn listened, all of his attention on Pierre. His own smile widened slightly as he said, "That's so cool."

Pierre laughed, head thrown back before he returned his glittering gaze and bright smile to Shawn. "I'm glad you think so. But, sadly, it wasn't to last." His expression fell slightly, smile fading. "I was preparing for my first job in North America when it happened."

"It?" Shawn jumped and looked immediately towards the door where Carlton stood, arms crossed, watching Pierre intently. He caught Shawn's eye and gave a brief nod before closing the door and walking in to sit on the bed next to Shawn.

"Nice of you to join us, Carlton."

Carlton shrugged, "Thought I'd come make sure you two were keeping out of trouble." Shawn knew that Carlton expected Pierre to take off at any given moment, didn't trust him to stick around. Didn't trust him not to turn them over even as he agreed to go where Pierre led them. Shawn scooted over on the bed to give Carlton space. "Didn't know I was missing out on storytime."

"I'm guessing this is the only part you'd want to hear anyway." Pierre frowned slightly, eyes closing as he thought. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, forced to neutrality. "February 13. I woke up to find an envelope that had been slid under the door of my latest hideaway."

Carlton smiled grimly, "Run rabbit run?"

He chuckled, "Not quite. In Europe, they called us foxes. Ours was a battle of wits. If we were clever enough, if we could hide and survive and outsmart our opponents, then there was hope for an eventual end." He opened his eyes and directed a wry smile at the two of them, "Trust the Americans to take all nobility out of even the worst of fates."

"So you ran?"

"Of course. What other choice was there? I was on my own for a few months when I ran into someone else who was in the same hunt as I." His false smile faded again, and his fingers tapped a restless rhythm on his stomach. "Our fame was our downfall. Several low-level celebrities such as myself had been chosen as prey. So far as either of us knew, we were the only ones left."

"Who was it?" Shawn asked, almost flinching when he saw the brief flare of hurt in Pierre's eyes. He recalled what Pierre had told him on the beach in Texas – " _You two are a danger to each other... You'll survive only to have your heart broken, and you deserve better than that... Surviving only to find misery on the other side – you'll live, but you'll wish you hadn't._ "

He wanted to take it back, tell Pierre not to answer, but the older man only shrugged, looking away from them as he recalled, his voice still as neutral as it had been throughout the conversation. "She was an actress. Visiting London to put on a play only to be called out with a few days to go before their first performance. She was an extraordinary woman."

"Was?" Shawn's voice was small, and Carlton elbowed him in the ribs with a disapproving frown.

Pierre didn't acknowledge his question. "We were cornered, and things didn't go according to plan. At the end of it, I had nothing except an escape for myself, and I took it." He slowly turned his eyes back to them. "I received my victory notice from my pursuers the next day." He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I got back to my old life as best I could, and when that failed, I moved to America where I wouldn't be constantly reminded of my old life and my failings. I was arrested once – reacted too badly to being threatened by some people in a bar one night. Lightly pulled me out of jail and offered me a unique opportunity to help others survive as I had. I took it, and I've been at it ever since."

"So what happens tomorrow?" Carlton asked, and Shawn attempted to elbow him back with a frown. Carlton blocked his hit and kept watching Pierre intently.

Pierre sighed, looking, for a moment, so much older than he had since he had become their guide. "Do you still not believe me, Carlton? That it should not concern you?"

"I prefer being informed and prepared."

"Carlton," Shawn said softly, "let it go."

"No," he refused to look away from Pierre. "If it won't affect us, what harm is there in telling us the truth?" Grimly, he continued, "Why bother keeping secrets?"

Pierre hesitated but eventually closed his eyes, nodding his assent. "There is someone looking for me, who will stop at nothing to ensure my eventual death. When I fail to deliver Shawn to Yin and Yang, they will alert this enemy of mine to my whereabouts. And I will not be protected by the rules that have helped you so far."

Pierre opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Shawn tried to come up with something to say, but he couldn't find anything. He could have offered to give himself up, but he knew it wasn't an option. Even if he weren't a coward with a strong fear of dying that had been only reaffirmed by being shot, he knew that neither Pierre nor Carlton would be willing to let him do it.

Pierre spoke again, his voice firm and offering no room for argument, "Tomorrow, we'll pass by Jacksonville and head to Miami. Lightly has trustworthy friends there that will be able to help us. It'll be a long day of driving. I suggest you get some rest." He stood and left the room, leaving Shawn and Carlton alone.

Shawn curled up with his back to the headboard, looking at Carlton over his knees. "This isn't real, is it?" Carlton didn't answer, looked over at the empty bed with a blank, vacant expression. "Things like this don't happen except in the movies." He shook his head, shaking slightly as the reality of the situation threatened to overwhelm him.

"Yes, they do," Carlton said softly. "They're happening to us."

"Why?" Shawn looked at him sharply. "He said it was because he had made a name for himself, but I know I hadn't. And you?" Carlton only shook his head. "So why? How? I don't... we don't deserve this. Carlton," he pleaded only to have Carlton's head snap to look at him, eyes narrowed as growled.

"I don't know. I don't have the answers, and I can't make them up any better than you can." He shook his head, scowling. "It doesn't matter anyway. None of it does. Tomorrow is all there is until sundown, and then we've got to start looking at the day after that."

"You don't believe that," Shawn accused softly.

Carlton froze, looked at him, eyes darting around him, trying to figure out the odd hint in Shawn's tone. Shawn shook his head slowly and stood, hissing through his teeth in pain as he limped quickly towards the door. Carlton's hand closed around his wrist, stopped him dead. "Shawn." Shawn took a deep breath and stared ahead, refusing to look behind him. "You're right. I don't. I... It doesn't work that way."

It almost sounded like an apology. Shawn closed his eyes, pushed it all away. He took a deep breath and turned, smiling brightly even though it hurt. "Just don't lie to me, Carlton. Don't say things you don't mean. I'm too young and innocent," he flitted his eyelashes. "I'll believe everything you say." He jerked his arm out of Carlton's hold, stumbling backwards from the force of it. He gave up on holding the smile, turned back towards the door, and was almost out of it before he heard Carlton's reply.

"Who's lying now?"

He couldn't be bothered to close the door behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

They were on edge from the moment they passed the signs pointing towards Jacksonville. The air in the car – already warming from the Florida heat – became heavy with tension. Carlton couldn't stand it. As irritable as he already was, the odd silence from the other two was verging on unbearable. "As if they're going to know just instantly that we didn't make the turn off."

"They'll know," Despereaux replied from the passenger seat. Resigned, staring out at the scenery as it rolled by. "They've been tracking you."

Carlton gripped the steering wheel harder, sighed in frustration. "I hadn't noticed."

Then the silence fell again, and Carlton found himself checking the rearview mirror, making sure they hadn't accidentally left Shawn at the hotel. It wasn't like him to be quiet unless he was sleeping or thinking, though Carlton supposed he had enough reason to be doing the latter. When he had come back in the previous night, Shawn had barely said a word before going to bed.

He was laying down in the back seat, book held over his head, expression hidden by his hand and some pages. Carlton forced his eyes back to the road, shaking his head. He wouldn't let him kill them all because he'd been distracted by some teenager. Some intelligent, fun, brave teenager. 

He sighed and shifted forward, his back hurting from the long days spent in the car. He couldn't stop himself from wondering. Carlton knew Shawn was upset with him, but it remained a mystery as much as any relationship ever had for him. If someone would just tell him, then it'd be easy to evaluate and respond. He glanced back up the mirror and found his eyes lingering on Shawn's injured leg stretched out across the seat. Then again, maybe not.

He forced his focus to the road again.

\-----

They were finally getting out of Tampa traffic. It had been almost an hour of barely moving in the midday heat, sweat and tension making them all more miserable. Carlton had about had enough of it when they finally started moving faster. Shawn had rolled down his window at least half an hour ago, and he leaned back, sighing gratefully as air rushed into the car.

Carlton leaned slightly towards his own window. The breeze wasn't cool by any means, but it was better than being stifled in the dead heat of the car. Shawn caught his gaze in the rearview mirror and gave him a tentative smile. Carlton nodded and sped up, wanting to get as far away from the cars around them as soon as he could.

It was probably for the best that he did, or else Despereaux might not have noticed the car behind them, weaving through the traffic just as eagerly as they were. "Black coupe at our six, Carlton."

Carlton's eyes immediately picked it out. The windows were tinted dark, keeping him blind to the other occupants. "Shit," he said under his breath, stepping down on the gas. The car lurched forward and sped on.

"Might not be them," Shawn ventured, his eyes focused wholly on the car behind them.

"Might not be. But I'd rather be on the safe side and alive than anything else."

"How good of a driver are you?" Despereaux asked him quickly, and Carlton smiled grimly at him.

"Watch and learn."

He had excelled at the driving portions of his exams, proven to have a clear head even under duress. With lightning-fast reflexes that meant he could react to anything the road and other drivers threatened to throw at him. He only regretted not having his own sirens, but this way, they were just another group speeding down the highway. A little more subtle than flashing lights and screaming sirens but not by much.

"We should get off the main road. We can lose them in corners and down streets," Shawn said, but Carlton shook his head.

"They want us to run? We run. We'll hide when we have a better chance."

"He's right, though," Despereaux said evenly, his head turned so he could watch the car behind them. "And if we turn off, and they do as well, then we'll know for certain that it's them."

"What are the odds that someone else could get hurt if two cars go speeding down some small-town road?" Despereaux looked at him. "That they'll hurt someone else or that there'll be an accident?"

Despereaux hesitated, "Significant."

"Then we stay on the highway for now."

They broke free of the other cars, and sure enough, so did the black car. Carlton switched lanes, and it followed diligently. "They're gaining," Shawn observed, not sounding afraid or worried but resigned. Despereaux reached back, and Carlton kept himself from looking as he gently squeezed Shawn's knee.

"Shawn, sit up and put on your seatbelt." Shawn met his gaze defiantly in the mirror, scowling unhappily. Carlton growled, giving the car more gas, "Put your seatbelt on. Now."

There was another car ahead of them, and Carlton was gaining on them fast. The moment he heard Shawn's seatbelt click, he switched to the far lane and slammed on the brakes just as the black car got too close. Shawn and Despereaux both shouted at him, but he didn't hear. He let them shoot past and saw their brake lights flare up.

"Definitely them," Shawn said with a certainty that Carlton had learned to trust.

He raced towards the car, watching as Despereaux reached for the glovebox where he had been keeping his gun. "I can shoot," Shawn offered, but Carlton shook his head.

"The last thing we need are the authorities breathing down our neck. No one shoots unless we have to." He glanced at Despereaux who nodded, his firearm in hand. Part of him was aware that he shouldn't be thinking this clearly, but the rest was solely concerned with getting all three of them to safety.

They drew beside the black car, and Carlton found himself looking at the driver, a man he was becoming increasingly and uncomfortably familiar with. Yin smiled slightly at him, pretended to tip his hat, and then twisted the steering wheel harshly. Carlton swore as Yin rammed them, slamming on the brake. The car twisted back, tires screaming as Carlton fought to remain in control.

Yin was ahead of them, turning back to face them, and Carlton floored it, straightening out on the road. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out Shawn and Despereaux, and he was past the point of caring. They were talking. They were alive. It was enough.

"Come on, come on, come on," he mumbled to himself, feeling the wobble of his car as he rushed past the black car again. It twisted towards them, scraping down the other side without any force behind it. He floored it, the engine roaring unhappily.

Despereaux's hand touched his shoulder, "Gas station. Next exit. We have to."

"It can take more," Carlton said automatically, eye sliding up to the rearview mirror. "We won't make Miami, but like hell are we going out that easy." He caught sight of Shawn's face, pale, eyes wide with fear as he watched the other car.

He saw an exit on the other side of the road after a few more miles and no sign of their pursuers, and Carlton yelled, "Hold on!"

He turned quickly onto the median, dry grass and dirt making it hard to gain any ground. The car jolted across the uneven terrain, and then they were back on asphalt. Horns screamed at them, but he pulled quickly into the traffic, crossing to the exit and flooring it up and out and down the road.

They pulled into a small secluded area with trees, and Carlton slammed the car into park once he was sure they were sufficiently hidden. His nerves and reflexes were still on high alert as he listened for the approach of the others. Carlton closed his eyes and breathed carefully, letting the tension flow out of him. "We need to get our stuff and get going," Despereaux said.

"On foot?"

"Not with Shawn's leg," Carlton said, reaching for his gun. Shawn made a noise of protest, but Carlton shook his head, "It'll be too slow-going."

"Then leave me."

Carlton turned to look at him, making sure he was meeting Shawn's eyes. "No." When Shawn glared, opened his mouth, and Carlton reiterated, "Hell no."

"I'm inclined to agree with him," Desperaux admitted.

"Then what happens when they catch up?" Shawn demanded, opening the car door.

"I spotted a sign for a gas station just up the road. Let me go and call the people from Miami and get help here as soon as we can." Despereaux slid out, standing up and listening for the sound of roaring engines. Carlton wasn't sure what was worse – that or the desolate silence that was their reality. They could be sneaking up, getting closer while keeping them unaware. "Stay here with him."

Carlton nodded, saying, "Hurry." Despereaux nodded with a grim smile and pulled himself up. After confirming the silence, he took off running through the trees and hopefully towards help.

They both got tentatively out of the car, and Carlton felt his entire body tense, ready to run or fight at a moment's notice. Shawn pulled himself out, moving stiffly on his injured leg. Carlton saw his hands shake as he leaned against the car, breathing in quick, terrified breaths as he looked towards the road, watching like a hawk.

"We're hidden at least," Carlton said, feeling useless.

Shawn didn't look at him. "Quick thinking and good driving. They would have caught up with us otherwise." He gave a dazed laugh, "They still could."

Carlton wanted to keep his distance, but Shawn's nervousness had him stepping closer. Unsure of how to offer even the most basic of comforts, he settled for leaning on the car against Shawn, hand touching his arm gently before falling to his own side. "They could, yes."

"I'm not ready to die," he said, his voice moving quickly, higher-pitched with panic. Carlton found himself gazing into widened, fear-filled eyes.

Carlton shook his head, "I'm not either." He reached out to touch again, as gentle as he could manage, not sure of how to make that panic fade but knowing desperately that he needed it to. "We're going to be fine," he lied, trying to reassure firmly. "They won't find us. Help will get here soon, and it's all going to be fine."

"And if it isn't?" Shawn's voice was so quiet, so afraid, and Carlton's fingers on his arm tightened. Ground him. Give him something else to focus on.

He faintly realized that their bodies were angled together, barely an inch or two apart, Shawn's head tilted up and eyes still searching Carlton's for something. The world seemed to slow down, and Carlton was suddenly aware of everything. The rise and fall of Shawn's body as he breathed, and the small movements of his lips as he tried to find words. Carlton himself had few. "Then it won't be."

That was the long and short of it. If things went badly, if Yin and Yang showed up, then there was a very for-real chance that this was the end of the line. There wasn't any Despereaux to talk their way out of it this time, and running and hiding seemed a pointless venture – the trees could only protect them so much.

Shawn seemed to make up his mind, his expression firming up, fiercely determined. He pushed forward and up, his lips pressing hard against Carlton's, hands grasping Carlton's back and pulling him down against him.

Carlton's response was immediate. One hand curved around Shawn's neck, drawing him close while the other on his arm hardened its grip, keeping him under control. He turned them both, pressed Shawn against the side of the car and kissed him hungrily. Fear and desperation fueled them, all thoughts gone except for the need to touch and be touched, to find some sort of safety from the terror all around them. They clung and kissed feverishly, lost to the sensations and the need to forget about everything else.

He realized distantly that this was a bad idea. Shawn was a teenager – practically a kid – and this tension between them wouldn't be solved by this. If they made it out – if they survived, if they lived to see the sunset, if tomorrow was an actuality, if their lives didn't end here in muggy Florida autumn, if, if, _if_ – then they'd only have another problem to tackle.

"Shawn," he murmured disapprovingly, but he couldn't convince his body to join in the rebellion. His mind soon gave up too. Wife, life, job, future, past, none of it mattered when the end was right there and so very real. Even knowing it was selfish and irresponsible, he gave in, pressed himself against the smaller man beneath him and simply let himself feel until his lungs burned with a need for air.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Shawn's, both of them panting for breath, still clinging to each other even as they began to calm down. Shawn's eyes flicked open, close, and Carlton swallowed dryly at his blown pupils, feeling the smile forming on the lips near his. 

Shawn giggled suddenly, and Carlton soon found himself laughing, moving his head to stifle the helpless noises in Shawn's shoulder. They held onto each other for a long time, only moving apart when their laughter subsided. Carlton's hand held on last, slowly sliding down to touch Shawn's hand. Shawn grinned at him, his fingers curling around Carlton's before letting go. "That was interesting."

"That's one way of saying it." Carlton wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, drawing an offended gasp from Shawn. Shawn pushed him, feigning anger even as his smile refused to be completely wiped away. Carlton found himself smiling in return as he pushed gently back. And he thought there were definitely worse ways to end, if this was it. And if it wasn't, then maybe they'd still manage to be all right.

They eventually clambered up onto the hood of the car and leaned back, watching the clouds beyond the tops of the trees, waiting for fate to catch up with them one way or another.


	13. Chapter 13

"Shawn. Shawn, wake up." Shawn's eyes flitted open and he curled closer to Carlton next to him. He'd fallen asleep while sitting on the hood of the car, the sudden lack of adrenaline and excitement allowing him to slow down enough to grab a little bit of sleep. He ducked his head against the warm body, murmuring unhappily. If it was an emergency, Carlton would have been more urgent. As it was, he only shifted slightly, allowing Shawn to remain curled up near him. With a sigh that sounded almost fond, Carlton brushed a hand through his hair. "Come on."

Shawn sighed reluctantly and raised his head, following Carlton's gaze to see Pierre walking back from the road, hands in his pockets, looking somewhat smugly back behind him. "Must have found help."

"Must have," Carlton agreed. Shawn arched his back, pressing gently back against the body next to him. Carlton indulged him for a moment before sliding down the hood, feet on the ground as Shawn sat up.

Pierre raised his hand in the briefest wave, and then Shawn heard it. The engine made his stomach clench – he might have had enough of vehicles by the time this was over – but the Jeep that tackled the off-road challenge as bravely as Carlton had a few hours ago was most certainly not the black car that had tried to run them off the road.

He crossed his legs and sat up higher, as if lifting his head and squinting meant he'd be able to make faces out this far away. By the time Pierre got to them, the Jeep pulled to a stop, kicking up dust, and the engine rumbling like a quiet purr. Shawn narrowed his eyes at the tinted windows, naturally not trusting who or what might be inside. He uncrossed his legs and slid down the hood, wincing at the pain in his wounded leg.

The driver's door opened, and a large, tall, muscled guy stepped out. Tight shirt, camouflage pants, and he looked like he ought to be wearing dogtags with his short, buzzed hair. His expression was grim – so much for the hope of finding someone fun – and he scanned quickly over the three of them, his eyes singling out Shawn and his slight favoring of his injured leg.

The passenger door opened, and Shawn's eyes immediately shot to it. Of course Muscles had backup in case things went south. More south than Florida, and that thought had him biting back a laugh, leaning closer to Carlton, and eying the suspicious door that was open with nothing coming out.

Shawn peered closer and was startled as a head popped up over the top of the door. "Hello!" Her smile was nice, and Shawn found himself smiling back, eyes scanning over the girl who broke the silence. Her yellow hair was tied back into a ponytail, a few stray strands brushing her forehead in the breeze. Her features were youthful, and Shawn guessed she was probably a year or two from shedding the most awkward years of youth and maturing like some sort of post-adolescent butterfly. "These the two you've been helping?"

Pierre nodded, "Doing my best."

"They're in one piece, so I'd say you're doing pretty good." She hopped down and walked around the door, getting a better look at the both of them. "I'm Juliet O'Hara. He's my big brother, Ewan." She looked over at him, still smiling away, and his firm expression cracked into something warm and amused. "Don't you think they've been through enough to have you glaring at them?"

"The Look's a tried and true method."

"Yeah, for creeping people out." Juliet rolled her eyes, and Shawn laughed. These were good people. The tension that had him in its hold for the last several weeks unwound slightly at the revelation. This was safety for now. This was good.

"These two are Shawn Spencer and Carlton Lassiter. I'm assuming Lightly's told you about them."

"And about Ewing," Ewan's smile fell into a grave frown. "We should have known."

"Glitch in the system," Pierre said with a shrug. "We're alive."

"Barely," Carlton added with a grumble that turned the two sets of unfamiliar eyes to him. He shifted slightly under their scrutiny, lifting his head and clenching his jaw even as he tried to smile. It came out thin, his joke weak, and Shawn elbowed him gently.

"I'm the one who got shot. Lighten up."

That earned them some quiet laughs. Ewan nodded towards the car. "Doesn't look like it's going to go much further."

"No," Carlton agreed, and Shawn nudged Carlton's hand with his, knowing how hard admitting defeat on the car that got them this far would be. But there was some nasty dents in the side and one of the wheels was definitely tilted at an ugly angle. It wasn't going to be making it many more miles on its own.

"You mind leaving it for dead?" Ewan asked, jerking a thumb at his Jeep. "We've got plenty of room for the three of you and whatever you brought."

"What's the plan?" Carlton demanded.

Juliet was the one who answered, taking a half-step forward, a quickly-aborted attempt at comfort. She held her ground and answered, meeting Carlton's gaze without flinching from his scowling intensity. "We get you both to Miami. Check Shawn's wounds and make sure they're healing okay, get you a different car and any other supplies you need."

Ewan added, "And if you need training in anything. We can give you a crash course or direct you to someone who can help."

"And I'll be arranging the next leg of our journey," Pierre finished with a nod. His body posture was stiff, nervous even as he seemed confident in their being able to trust these two.

Shawn was fairly sure that Henry would have scolded him for the instant liking he took to Juliet and Ewan, would have told him to keep himself sharp or else it might be the end of him. Not to trust a friendly smile. "And we'll be safe?" Shawn looked between the three of them.

Ewan nodded, "Completely."

"We'll take care of you," Juliet promised, and Shawn suddenly realized how weird it was, being offered protection by a girl who had to be a few years younger than him. He had a million questions he wanted to ask, but he held them back. There'd be time later.

For now, there was only one that mattered. He looked up at Carlton who turned his head. He looked uncertain, an eyebrow raised, silently asking the same thing Shawn needed to know. It took him shifting slightly and feeling the pain in his leg to have him dip his head in a small nod. Besides, they were right. The car was done, and it wasn't like they had a lot of options.

"All right," Carlton said quietly, first to him before turning to look at the others again. With a firm nod, he repeated, "All right. We'll go. What are we going to do about the car?"

"Leave it for now," Ewan said. "Me and lil sis will come pick it up soon and sell it for parts. If you don't mind."

Carlton shook his head. "Fine by me."

"Grab your stuff and hop in," Juliet ordered brightly before hoisting herself back into the backseat of the Jeep. It took them approximately ten minutes to pull out all of their luggage and the assorted things they'd left laying around in the seats that needed to come with them.

The last thing Shawn removed were his books. Ignoring Juliet's giggles and Ewan's startled laughter, he piled them on top of his duffel bag. All except for one. It didn't take him long to find the page with the yin-yang symbol drawn on it in pen. The ink had faded from his repetitive rubbing, his need to see, touch, and analyze it slowly making the mark lighten and the paper thin. He tore the corner off and left it in the driver's seat, knowing the others were watching him and not caring.

If they found it, the message should be clear enough for them to see: _We're still ahead. We're still alive. Suck it._ While he tossed the book into the back, he avoided meeting their eyes, not wanting to see their condescension, their disapproval. But when he closed the trunk and took a tentative look, there was something akin to pride in Carlton and Pierre's expressions. Shawn lifted his head and grinned shamelessly.

He climbed in the Jeep, sitting in the middle of the backseat, nestled safely between Carlton and Juliet. Once they were safely on the road to Miami with no sign of the black car they'd been running from earlier, he relaxed, leaning slightly towards Carlton even as he turned to look at Juliet. "Please tell me you have satellite."

"Why?"

"I'm dying for some good TV. The motels we've been staying at don't have nearly enough channels." Shawn grinned at Juliet's laugh and felt himself relax for real for the first time since he'd been shot as his shoulder touched Carlton's.

\-----

The O'Haras lived in a nice-ish house in the suburbs, a mirror image to all the ones around it. The small back yard had a basketball hoop and a dog that trotted up to the fence, head tilted to the side when he saw Shawn, Carlton, and Pierre. "That's Rocket," Juliet explained. "He keeps an eye out."

Shawn, who hadn't gotten to ever have a dog when he'd wanted one so badly as a kid, immediately made a beeline for the gate, peering at the German Shepard as he poked his nose through the chain links, snuffling and sniffing until his ears perked up and his tongue licked a stripe over Shawn's hand. Shawn laughed.

"Shawn, come on. It's still light." Shawn looked back to where Carlton had his suitcase hanging from one hand and Shawn's duffel bag swung over his shoulder. Shawn nodded and followed him towards the house. Ewan had them stand back while he unlocked the front door and punched in the security code for the panel on the wall.

"Lightly supplied?" Pierre guessed, bringing his own luggage inside.

"Nothing but the best and safest," Ewan said, his smile seeming a little sad. "The bedrooms are upstairs. There's only two beds, but I can crash on the couch if someone wants mine."

"I can sleep down here," Carlton offered, but Shawn shook his head.

"They'll have a harder time breaking in on the second floor. It's safer for us to be up there," he reasoned.

Ewan and Juliet both smiled at him. Ewan nodded, "Exactly."

"We can settle it later," Pierre said. "For now, Ewan and I have matters to attend to. Juliet?"

She nodded quickly, no explanation needed. "I got it."

"You're sure leaving us with the thirteen-year-old is such a good plan?" Carlton shrugged, only partially apologetic. "We've been through a lot."

"Juliet can handle herself," Ewan assured him with a confidence that chilled Shawn to the bone.

"I promise I can," Juliet nodded, her expression serious, more mature than Shawn thought she should. "And I'm fifteen." She gave a small pout as she crossed her arms in the ensuing silence, "Just. So you know."

Ewan ruffled her hair playfully, and Juliet's pout shifted into indignation. She swiped at his hand with a loud "Hey!" Shawn saw Pierre's fond smile and filed away a reminder to ask later how well he knew the two of them.

Later. The idea that there could be – would be – a later made him want to laugh, run circles around this unfamiliar home, maybe kiss Carlton again and enjoy the thrill of victory no matter how small and fragile it was. He grinned over at Carlton who was watching the two O'Haras with a tight smile. Fake.

He nudged Carlton with his elbow, raising his eyebrows and silently asking what was wrong. Carlton glanced at him and gave a small shrug before looking back at the other three. "We'll be back as soon as we can," Ewan promised, heading for the door, Pierre at his heels. When he passed, Shawn touched his arm. Pierre paused and looked at him, silently questioning.

"Stay safe?"

Pierre smiled fondly at him. "We will. Relax and rest up." He looked towards Carlton. "Both of you."

Carlton gave a curt nod and watched as Ewan and Pierre left. Shawn, on the other hand, turned to face Juliet. She looked worried while, at the same time, she tried to hide it. He drawled, "Soooo?"

"What?"

"Gonna give us a tour of the house or what?" Juliet gave him a tentative smile and nodded. Shawn nudged Carlton again and tried to get something similar out of him, but Carlton barely tried before shaking his head.

He carried their bags up the stairs and vanished, and Shawn forced himself to turn back to Juliet with a smile, saying flippantly, "He's a little grumpy about the car thing, but trust me. He's usually at least 10% more cheerful." It took a tremendous amount of effort not to immediately follow him up and, instead, to focus on Juliet. In the ensuing tour, he never stopped trying to catalog everything he could about her. There would be no surprises. Not this time.

\-----

It took him two hours of spending time with Juliet before he felt safe enough concerning her, her brother, and the house to excuse himself upstairs. The door to the guest room Carlton had chosen had a closed door, but the knob twisted easily under his hand. Shawn swung it slowly open, the creak of wood and the squeal of a hinge making him wince, but it didn't seem to matter.

Carlton was sitting on the bed, his suitcase open on one side and a familiar-looking envelope in his hands. For a moment, Shawn panicked, thinking that Carlton had found his and opened it, but the rage died as quickly as it came. He didn't recognize the people in the pictures, and Carlton's worn-down, wounded expression made Shawn's chest hurt. It wasn't a difficult leap of logic to make. Shawn kept his distance, not wanting to intrude if Carlton didn't want him to.

"She seems like a nice kid," Carlton finally said, breaking the silence as he sat the envelope and its contents down on the bed.

"We're safe with them." Carlton looked up at him, seeming so tired that Shawn had to force himself to stay still, to keep himself from crossing the room and trying to take all of Carlton's troubles away one way or another. "Their parents," he explained quietly.

"She told you?"

"She didn't have to." He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "There's pictures of all of them downstairs, in places where they can be easily seen. Dusted. Cared for, but they're here alone. They had a sister too, but I don't know where she is."

"So you think that guarantees our safety?" Carlton's tone was unintentionally condescending, and Shawn frowned. "Hardly."

"I doubt they'll turn us over to the same sort of people who killed their parents," Shawn reasoned. "I mean, you saw the two of them. They're close. And from the pictures, it looks like they were close to their family too." He shook his head. "They wouldn't forgive that. Or take advantage of it. Or at least Jules wouldn't."

Carlton's eyes shot to him, narrowed, "What did I tell you about nicknames?"

"She's _fifteen_."

"Age isn't important," he said firmly. "Don't get comfortable with them."

"Or with you," Shawn grumbled. "I know." Carlton's frown deepened slightly. "I know."

"Shawn, about earlier-"

Shawn held up a hand, stopping him before he could continue. "Let me guess? A big mistake, can't happen again, get out?"

Carlton shook his head and scooted to the edge of the bed. He stood, "No. I mean, yes, it's probably a mistake. A bad idea. One of the worst we've ever had. And I don't know if it can happen again or not."

"Sure it can," Shawn assured him, sliding slowly into Carlton's personal space.

Carlton put his hands on Shawn's shoulders, holding him at a decent distance. "I was thinking. About what Despereaux said, about how he had to take an option that screwed over others just to make it out alive." Shawn opened his mouth to say something, but Carlton shook his head, eyes glimmering with fierce intensity even as they softened in sorrow. "Shawn, if something happens, and there's a way for you to get out, you have to go for it."

"Absolutely not."

"And that? That's the problem."

Shawn shrugged his shoulders, wiggling out of Carlton's grip and taking a shaky step back. "You wouldn't leave me either! Earlier, when you could have gone on foot – you should have." He realized his voice was rising in pitch, his body tensing as he got more upset. "Should have left me. And-" He took a shaky breath. "And you can't expect me to do something you wouldn't. Unless you regret that, too?"

"God, no. Shawn, I don't. Of course I don't. And I don't _regret_... But. But you have to understand."

"That what? You're allowed to care about me, but I'm not about you?"

"That's not what I meant," Carlton snapped. "But if you have a chance to get out of this, even if it means-"

"No," Shawn shook his head, taking a step away again as Carlton stepped forward. "No, I won't."

"Yes you _will_. You have to. And if you can't even hear me say it, then this is already too much."

"I can handle," Shawn's voice shook, and he could feel tears in the corners of his eyes, burning, begging him to blink and let them spill. He didn't. "I can handle it. I can."

"Shawn," Carlton's voice was gentle, but his intense expression had only hardened, steely and unyielding. "You have to do what it takes. If you get a chance to get out of this, even if it means you have to kill me to do it, you fucking take it. You understand? I didn't bring you this far for you to let some stupid crush get you killed."

Shawn shook his head, but he couldn't find the words. Found himself running over Carlton's file in his head, the three pictures he'd seen. An older man, clearly the father. And two women, one roughly Carlton's age – that'd be the wife – and one who looked to be roughly Juliet's age. A sister. Ewan and Juliet's closeness was making him miss his family. Puzzle solved.

And with that, he was aware that the silence had stretched on forever, Carlton still staring him down, his own heart pounding loudly even as he realized he was almost perfectly calm. "Say it, Shawn. Say you'll do it. Whatever it takes."

It took Shawn less than a second to consider and shake his head. "No. I'll make my own decisions how I want to. You aren't the boss of me. And if you can't handle the idea of me dying, then maybe you're the one standing too close to the fire, Lassie." Carlton leaned back away from him, observing him coldly. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Shawn turned towards the door, aware that he was storming out again. For the hundredth time since this started, it felt like.

"Sh- Spencer." Shawn paused, hand on the knob, turning to look at Carlton who was still wearing a distancing mask, trying to keep Shawn from seeing his emotions. It didn't work well. He was angry, upset, sad, scared. Everything they were probably supposed to be. "Don't go outside. Not until it's dark."

He gave a brief nod, opened the door, and walked out thinking that maybe he'd go outside and play with Rocket. With the close crowd of houses around them, he'd be able to see anyone trying to sneak up on him or aim at him while he was in the yard. He'd be fine.

He'd be fine.


	14. Chapter 14

The next few days were more torturous than all of the others put together. Carlton hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on Shawn's companionship until he no longer had it. They still spent time together – the House O'Hara wasn't big enough that they could avoid it – but it was different now. All of the closeness he'd started to become comfortable with was suddenly gone, vanished.

It was for the best, really, and he knew that. But that didn't help the sting of hurt every time Shawn refused to look at him for more than a few seconds or when his smiles seemed cold and distant.

He wanted to keep going. To take the vehicle Ewan was preparing for them and take off in the middle of the night alone. Let Despereaux keep Shawn alive, and he'd make his own way. The more he considered it, the more everyone else seemed to crowd around him, giving him things to do, ways to keep his mind off the unhappiness that plagued him.

He liked the O'Haras. In spite of his initial resistance, Carlton couldn't help but eventually like them. Ewan was smart, and his game plan along with Despereaux's quick thinking and promise to continue guiding them both made him feel a lot more solid about the next leg of the trip. And Juliet was surprisingly capable for someone her age – she knew all of the plans for escaping the house, knew first aid training (she was the one who coached both him and Shawn on the basics), and he was quickly learning that she knew how to handle a gun.

The indoor firing range belonged to a trusted friend of Ewan's, and he offered to give them a few hours of practice to make sure that both Carlton and Shawn were prepared in case they ever needed to shoot. Juliet had jumped at the chance to come, asking Ewan over and over in the way that only little sisters can get away with before he'd assented.

Her last shot rang out, finally piercing the middle of the paper target. "Wow," he said, looking at the neat little hole in the zero where she'd finally found her mark. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Juliet shook her head, grinning up at him. "That's gotta be almost perfect, Carlton. Come on."

"On your last shot," he pointed out.

Ewan nodded, "Not always gonna get to fire off 6 rounds to find the center. And it's not gonna be stationary either."

"You can do better?" Juliet challenged him, and Carlton couldn't help his smile.

They'd set up his target, and Carlton slid his gun out of its holster after refusing Ewan's offer of a different weapon. This one was familiar, weight and grip settling just right as he raised her. The first shot went through one of the rings near the target's stomach, and Carlton released his breath in near-relief. This was as good, as cleansing as he remembered it being. Every shot took more away, left him alone with his weapon and his target and nothing else.

Not even the memories of the last time he'd fired a gun could push their way into his head. Ewing's death replayed in the back of his head, but Carlton ignored it, breathing and blinking in rhythm, trading off with the squeeze of the trigger and the kickback that raced down his arms.

One shot at the head, clean, efficient, done.

The lower target took a little more feeling. Two shots got closer to the center, feeling their way to their destination. The last two, though, went through the middle of the target. He put his gun back in its holster, looking proudly over at Ewan and Juliet who were watching him with approval. "Wow," Juliet said with a small laugh. "Not bad." She turned her head to look where Shawn was sitting, watching them all with the same fake smile he seemed to keep close to him nowadays when Carlton was in the same room. "Shawn? You ever shot before?"

"Once or twice."

"Make it a third," Carlton said, trying to maybe make the kid's smile real, but Shawn's expression only flickered into a faint hint of a frown before he pushed himself to his feet.

"It's better if you know how to do this," Ewan explained, sounding almost apologetic, but Shawn ignored him, jerking his head at Carlton to make him stand aside. Earmuffs and goggles in place, he reached for the gun.

Juliet went to put a new target in place, but Shawn said, "No. Leave it." His smile looked a little grim, and Carlton wondered what Shawn was getting at as he brought the gun up.

His six shots were over quickly. Carlton watched him, saw that laser focus and the quick adjustments after each shot before firing off the next. He bit back his criticism, that Shawn needed to take more time between each shot, breathe a little and blink and it would help hone that focus better. He kept it down, knowing Shawn didn't want to hear it. At least not from him.

"You missed the target," Juliet said with a frown.

"Bet you five bucks I didn't," he said, smugly smirking as the target pulled closer to them.

Carlton stared. Each of his bullet holes had a twin, the edges of the two circles melding into one shape. He turned to look at Shawn, but he was already back in his seat, no longer smug but looking bored in a way that befitted a teenager. "Guess you don't need lessons," Ewan finally said.

"Nope," Shawn said easily. "I don't."

\-----

He could have dealt with the awkwardness with Shawn. It was irritating but necessary, and he had no regrets for saying what he had. He was getting attached to Shawn, and seeing Juliet and Ewan who had their entire lives ruined by this game reminded him of the stakes they were playing with. Juliet knew how to handle a gun, could patch up almost any wound put in front of her, but she was still fifteen and not at all prepared for the worst of the worst if it should come. Lauren was around her age too – sixteen soon, though he never could quite remember the date. Shawn couldn't be much older than Lauren, two or three years at the most, but that couldn't prepare him for what might happen when he had to pull the trigger against a real person or what might happen if he found himself having to make that choice between himself and someone else.

Attached though he was, he had to nip whatever this was in the bud. The last thing Shawn needed was someone he was trusting to be thinking with the wrong head or, worse, getting Shawn so mixed up that he couldn't make the right decisions when it counted. If he survived this somehow and Shawn didn't, he'd never forgive himself. Not if he went down the road that he had to force himself away from.

He was certain that he'd made the right choice. It was awkward, but that was fine. He could deal with awkward. The seething jealousy, though, was starting to keep him up at night. He didn't know who the instigator was, but it didn't make much of a difference to him. There were stolen glances, secretive smiles, heads tilted towards each other and whispers and laughter, and Carlton tried not to be driven mad by it, but it clearly wasn't working.

Shawn had plopped down on Despereaux's lap earlier that evening, and Carlton had to try very hard not to stare, glare, pull Shawn off of the older man and demand an explanation. He wasn't owed one – whatever was going on was between the two of them and no one else. But when he saw the two of them acting like that, he felt heated rage on the back of his neck, spreading down his body like a fire.

He found himself awake, pacing restlessly in the room that might as well be called 'his' for however much longer it was going to last. He hoped if he got rid of the energy that it'd be fine, but if anything, it only agitated him more. This was what he got for trying to be a good person, for trying to make the best out of a horrible situation. For trying to be good when the arrival of the envelope should have been a clear indicator that there was nothing good or decent in the world.

He ended up going downstairs for a drink of water which had always been his mother's remedy for insomnia. He had yet to see it work, but he'd take whatever help he could get.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, peering out at the living room and, across the way, the dining room. Despereaux and Ewan sat at the table, a phone sitting on the table in front of them, cords reaching from all the way across the room. Carlton couldn't hear them from where he was, and the idea of sneaking up on two people with the means to kill him didn't sound like the best plan.

They went quiet when he showed up in the archway, and the voice on the other end didn't speak. Carlton took a shot in the dark, "Despereaux. O'Hara. Lightly."

"Carlton," Lightly hesitantly greeted him. "They told me you were asleep."

"Is there any particular reason I wasn't invited to this little chat?" Both Despereaux and Ewan were watching him, neither of them looking particularly guilty, but then he supposed they'd both had a reason to learn to be able to hide such things.

"We didn't feel as if it concerned you," Despereaux answered. "We're arranging matters for the future which we would impart unto you when everything was certain."

"When are we leaving?" Carlton looked between them, looking for any sign of deceit.

Ewan shrugged, "Two, three days max. I want to give Shawn a few more days off his leg before you leave here."

"I feel like I can't apologize enough for Ewing's behavior."

Carlton snorted, a brief, surprised laugh. Lightly made it sound like Ewing had been a badly behaved puppy jumping up on the guests and drooling on everything and not like someone who had tried and almost succeeded in getting the three of them killed. "You can't. Apologies won't fix it."

"I've gotten you this far," Lightly's thin voice insisted.

"Yes, and if you get us through it, then you'll have succeeded." He pulled out a chair and sat at the far end away from the three of them, gesturing with his hand. "Please. Continue."

He almost didn't expect them to. He wasn't sure what secrets they'd want to keep from him, but he suspected they had something or the other they didn't want him knowing. Instead, though, they turned their attention back to the phone.

"You'll head north. Up the coast for a week, possibly two. You intended to stop in New York?"

"Shawn wants to try and catch a glimpse of his mother, and it might be a welcome break before..." Despereaux shrugged and said, "Before the next leg of our journey, whichever that might be."

"There's a choice?" Carlton piped up.

Ewan took note of Despereaux's unamused scowl and quickly stepped in. "There's a cabin in the woods of northern Maine. The snows will have started by the time you get up there. It's defensible, comfortable, and no one should be able to get the drop on you if they can even track you there. But you'd be stuck with only access to a small town for several months and there would be weeks where the weather would be bad enough you wouldn't even have that. The three of you would need to stay there until January or early February. Or once you got through in New York, you would shoot off West and keep running."

Carlton forced himself not to visibly react. Stuck with Shawn and Despereaux in a cabin for three or four months? He'd rather take his chances alone. But running would keep wearing them down, and the fatigue he felt now would be nothing compared to three or four months solid in a car going and never stopping.

He'd never thought to ask how long this usually took, and now that he realized it, he couldn't force himself to voice it. A year or two? Longer? He nodded instead, folded his hands neatly on the table and pushed his fears down. Tomorrow, the day after that, then onwards until it was done. However long that was going to be.

He listened to the rest of the conversation almost listlessly, suddenly fatigued by the idea of this not having an end that wasn't his eventual death. Maybe Ewan and Despereaux were right – he was better off in the acting stage rather than the planning.

Before they hung up, Carlton held up a hand to stall them. "Lightly?"

"Yes?"

"How's my family?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and when he spoke, his voice was curious, expectant, and Carlton was overwhelmed by a wave of nausea that he was being lied to and played by all corners of the field and not just the opposing team. "They're fine? Why do you ask?"

He found another thing he couldn't ask, buried in his chest, burrowing deeper and deeper, a doubt that was only amplified by his sudden lack of anyone who felt like his friend. _Do they miss me?_ But he couldn't ask that, not in front of the others, not to Lightly who had a sort of clinical coldness that discouraged and seemed to mock any needy emotion just by being impassive.

Instead, he said, "Thought I should ask."

"They're fine," Lightly said again. "They're going to be all right."

Shortly after that, Carlton heard a click and the dial tone as Lightly hung up.

\-----

Carlton sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the packed bags signaling – along with everything else – that they were on their way to leaving. Their old clothes had been cleaned, and there were new ones filling the bags. They'd paid to give Carlton more ammo and cleaning supplies for his gun, and they'd outfitted Shawn with one as well.

Earlier that day, Shawn had taken the holster Despereaux had gotten him, slipping it on and tightening it up. Carlton found himself staring in spite of himself. Shawn's smile was devoid of its usual childish edge. Stubble darkened his cheeks, and his hair was starting to grow out. He stood straighter with confidence and presence as he held out his hand for his gun.

Carlton shook his head, trying to push the image out of his head of Shawn putting the gun in its holster, seeming more adult than Carlton had thought he could be. He sighed, listening to the sound of a dog barking in distance, loud and angry and breaking the hated silence. Carlton had been listening so intently that when there was a knock at the door, he jumped to his feet in surprise, hand instinctively going for his gun before realizing he didn't have it on him.

He calmed himself as he approached the door, opening it with a quiet creak of the hinge. Shawn stood on the other side, but before Carlton could stop him, he hissed, "Shhh," as he darted into the room. Carlton noticed that Shawn was in his clothes and holster, armed and looking far too alert for 3:12 in the morning. "Do you hear it?"

"The dog?" Carlton whispered, feeling his face warm when he realized he was whispering back at Shawn.

"Not any dog," Shawn whispered, looking towards the window for a moment but making no move to go near it. "Rocket."

Carlton's eyes widened, and he took a step towards the window. Shawn grabbed his arm and pulled him back with a firm shake of his head. "Pierre's getting Ewan up. You need to get dressed quickly. I think we're leaving a little early."

Carlton nodded and had almost started unbuttoning his pajama top when a thought hit him. "What about Juliet?"

Shawn's eyes widened. Carlton darted to his gun and picked it up, pushing back Shawn and out into the dark house, his eyes already adjusted to the dark. He made his way quickly to Juliet's room, opening the door without knocking, a breach of privacy that he hoped would be forgiven under the circumstances.

He turned on the light and felt everything spin sickeningly when he saw the room empty, the window open. Rocket's barking was louder. Carlton threw caution to the wind and rushed to the window, looking down over the yard. He saw shadows moving, but he couldn't identify them. "Do you know where she is?" He turned to look at Shawn who was standing in the doorway.

He shook his head, eyes wide, and Carlton went to push past him, "I'll go tell them. Stay upstairs."

"No," Shawn said, reaching for his own gun. "We'll be safer together." He followed Carlton, limping just enough to be noticeable. Carlton pushed down the urge to protect him. If he was going to let Shawn make the biggest decisions, the ones that mattered, then he needed to let him make the others, too.

They'd barely gotten to the bottom floor when the barking turned into vicious snarls, muffled as Rocket attacked. Carlton could hear shouting – he easily picked out Ewan and two other voices, unfamiliar but he didn't have to guess who they were. He had a feeling that he knew. A hand grabbed him and pulled him back just as shots rang out from outside. More shouting, more swearing, more barking.

Despereaux pushed Carlton against the wall. "Get to the car."

"But Juliet-" Despereaux pushed him back before he could step forward.

"You and Shawn get to the car. Now." He stepped away and ran up the stairs. The gunfire hadn't stopped. Carlton realized with a sudden sick twist of his gut that the barking had.

"They won't kill us," Shawn said quietly. "Not until daylight." Carlton looked at him, stunned but not actually all that surprised to see Shawn's calm expression, calculating and calm. "We could help."

Carlton took a deep breath, nodding in minute jerks of understanding. "Your choice."

Shawn's expression broke into a tilted smile, amusement and fondness mixing with resignation and exhaustion. "What's the worst that could happen?" Carlton attempted to smile back at him, but it didn't work. He nodded towards the hallway leading to the back, and they both set off together, weapons drawn, moving silently but quickly towards the sounds of gunfire.

Carlton's eyes flicked around the scene, taking stock of the person crouching near one of the piles of junk in the yard, their gun an ugly silhouette. He could see the frizz of curls and sneered, following the line of destruction across the yard. His eyes skimmed over Rocket, a lifeless body on the ground though he could hear cloth tearing as the second, hidden assailant – Yin – attempted to bandage his injury.

Ewan ducked down below his cover to reload, swearing. Carlton wasted no time, bringing his hands up and aiming squarely at Yang silhouette. He could end it. He could-

"Lassie," Shawn said before he could pull the trigger. "Can you hear it? The shed."

Carlton paused and listened, hearing muffled shouting for help. "Juliet." He considered his options in the brief silence, biting his lip as he listened. "I'm gonna go out the front and swing around the side to the shed. Keep an eye on them. One of them moves out of hiding, incapacitate them. Got it?"

Shawn nodded, for once not fighting as he brought his gun up and aimed at the hiding place of their assailants. "Got it."

Carlton turned and darted towards the front of the house. Despereaux stood by the car, loading their gear up. Carlton saw the dark expression flash across his face, accusatory and hateful here where no one else could see. "Juliet's trapped in the shed in the backyard. Ewan could use some help."

"Leave them," Despereaux said, obviously pained though he forced the words out, and that, in the end, mattered a lot more to Carlton than his obvious dislike of the steps he felt they had to take.

"No chance in hell. Either leave us and save your own skin or help. Your choice." He darted off down the side of the house, slinking through the gate, and sticking to the long shadows created by the high fence and the moonlight, he made his way to the shed. The lock was easy to unbolt from this side, and he murmured, "It's me, O'Hara," at the door before he slid it open, revealing wide, fearful eyes and terror that he had to ignore for the time being.

The next moment he missed completely, but he knew instantly what had happened. A shot rang out, booming and deadly, and Carlton's arms went around Juliet, pulling her closer as she screamed Ewan's name, trying to break free and run towards him. Carlton maneuvered them so he was blocking her from view of the shooters, and he both was grateful for and hated that he felt no bullets sear through his pajamas, flesh, muscle, and bone like it ought to have.

She wriggled free of him, but Carlton was ready, running too close to her to give Yin and Yang a clear shot. She fell to her knees behind Ewan's cover. She pushed Despereaux away, replacing his hands on her brother's neck, trying to staunch the bleeding as much as she could and failing. Ewan gurgled blood, his expression surprisingly calm.

He reached up to hold Juliet's hand, pulling it weakly away from his neck and clasping it between his. The light faded from his eyes when he looked at his sister, and Carlton realized there were tears running down his own cheeks, warm and angry, and it took every ounce of willpower to not stalk across their battlefield and end this one way or another.

Instead, he pulled Juliet into his arms, giving her something to sob against and keeping her from lashing out and getting herself killed. Despereaux broke the silence with a low snarl, "Would you all please get in the fucking car?"

Carlton wasn't sure how he managed to wrangle Juliet away from Ewan's body and into the Jeep, but he did. Hours flew by, the car rolling down desolate, empty roads. No one spoke. Juliet sobbed, cried, punched Carlton's chest then clung to him as more sobs tore through her. She fell asleep eventually, tears finally stopping by sleep. Carlton's pajamas were covered in blood, and Juliet was too.

In the early, early hours, they pulled into a gas station where an overnight worker gladly turned her back for a mere $100, allowing the two of them to get clean and changed in the bathrooms. When Carlton shook Juliet awake, she stared straight ahead, seemingly dead to the world except to accept the clean, new clothes Shawn offered from his duffel bag. By the time Carlton came out of the bathroom, she wore clothing several sizes too big for her, her yellow hair wild around her face. She sniffled, and they'd barely gotten back into the car before she was clinging to Carlton again, crying quietly this time until she'd fallen asleep again.

Shawn was the first one to break the silence in the car, glancing at them all from the passenger seat, "So what happens now?"

"We run," Despereaux answered, his voice weary and body tense. "What else?"

Carlton looked down at Juliet who looked troubled even as she slept. He took no comfort in the sun when it began to rise over the far horizon, painting the sky a rosy pink. "We won't let them win," he promised, not entirely sure to whom he was speaking but knowing that it needed to be said. Ewan would not have died in vain. Whatever Carlton had to do, he'd make sure of that.


	15. Chapter 15

They rolled up the coast, taking it a day at a time. They had planned on taking a week to reach New York, winding their way slowly and carefully north, keeping their eyes peeled for trouble and trying to recover from the incident in Miami. Juliet was still stuck between comprehension and disbelief, sometimes sobbing quietly and other times staring straight ahead, practically dead to the world.

What they'd been fighting about suddenly seemed petty and childish in comparison. Shawn understood, now, why Carlton had been pushing him away. He had seen it happen and kept replaying it again and again, wondering why he hadn't taken the shot at Yang's shadow. One bullet, and it all could have been over for her. The same way it had for Ewan.

He didn't have much time to feel sorry for himself, which he supposed was for the best. But Shawn knew it would only be a matter of time before he did. When Juliet broke or when Carlton finally accused him of not doing his job... Shawn was sure it was coming. Carlton wouldn't hold back, not when he'd fucked up so royally it had gotten someone killed. But the hammer didn't fall, and they were all kept suspended, waiting, though Shawn wasn't sure for what.

Shawn was there when Pierre called Lightly, though he couldn't hear the other half of the conversation. It was a very formal report, over in seconds, and then Pierre did what he always did to get away and went for a smoke outside.

"Can I try it?"

"Why?"

Shawn shrugged, "Why not?"

"It's a terrible habit," Pierre said disapprovingly. Even as he said it, he handed over his cigarette to Shawn who tried desperately to be cool, pulling it up to his lips and taking a long drag. He coughed for almost a solid minute after, laughing and tasting nicotine as he handed it back.

"Did I look cool?"

"Not in the least," Pierre said with a fond smile. Shawn swallowed nervously and looked away. After the argument with Carlton, he'd allowed himself to have some fun with Pierre. It was nice knowing there was someone he could flirt with who would flirt back without hesitation, but he was getting nervous on that front as well.

He didn't know what he'd do with himself if either Pierre or Carlton were gone as quickly as Ewan was, and he supposed that was what they'd both been warning him of all along. He ran his hand through his hair, smiling grimly when it flopped back down. It was still a few inches from being in his eyes again the way Henry hated it. He couldn't wait. If they'd make it that long.

Shawn tapped restlessly against the wall, fidgeting until he finally found the voice to say what had been plaguing him. "You should leave."

Pierre watched him with a concerned frown. "What?"

"You should take Juliet, get her to someone who can take care of her. Me and Carlton, we'll do all right."

"I'm sure you would for a time. Long enough, I suppose, but not enough to end it. I assure you that I'm invaluable as a guide-"

"-I know," Shawn interrupted. "But she doesn't need to be a part of this."

Pierre paused and considered before speaking again. "Juliet has been a part of this for a long time. It has orphaned her in every possible manner, and if I were to take her away, it would be either to someone in our network who is as involved as Ewan or I, or it would be to a family member who cannot even begin to understand what she's been through and what she expects of the world. I could not do either of those to her. Not now."

"Then you two go to the cabin, and we'll... We'll run."

Pierre raised an eyebrow, "And you don't want to come with us because...?"

"Because they're following me," Shawn said. He shook his head and quickly corrected himself, "Us. Following us." He hung his head and crossed his arms, shivering. "I don't want either of you getting killed for me, okay? I'm- I'm not..." He shook his head again, unable to complete the thought.

"Of all the people there are to die for, I believe you to be one of the most worthy." There was a brief touch of light fingers beneath his chin, pulling him up to meet Pierre's gentle gaze. "I have had many chances to abandon you before now, but I have not. And I will not until I become an added danger to you."

Shawn felt it all rising to the top, all of the things he felt that he couldn't give voice to. It all came out as a single sentence, a simple statement uttered in a weak, forced, upset voice, "It's my fault."

Pierre frowned, his thumb sliding up, caressing Shawn's jaw. But he didn't offer words of encouragement or comfort, and, for some reason, that made Shawn feel more like an adult than going joyriding, standing up to Henry, or sleeping with strangers. "I can't say what should or should not weigh on your conscience as my own seems to be somewhat misaligned." Shawn nodded slightly. "But if you insist on looking behind you, it will be harder to keep moving forward."

"I can't forget," he said, his mind conjuring up the image the moment he let himself think. "It's there. All of it, and I don't know how to shut it off." He laughed somewhat bitterly, "He never taught me that trick."

Pierre's hand slid up, cupping Shawn's face, "I'm afraid my method for doing so wouldn't be welcome at a time like this."

Shawn smiled up at him, waggling his eyebrows, "Don't be so sure."

Pierre patted his cheek, "Noted. And don't think I'm so noble that I won't take you up on that later. But for now?" He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across Shawn's brow. "You've been through too much in the last few days." He drew away and pulled another cigarette out of the carton in his jacket. "My suggestion? Find something else to focus on. Those horrid books of yours or fond memories. Or use your perception, and keep us safe."

Shawn nodded, "All right. I'll do my best."

"I know you will."

Shawn left him shortly thereafter, making his way to the hotel room. He paused in the doorway, unable to keep from smiling at the scene that lay before him. Juliet was curled up next to Carlton, already asleep. Her head was pillowed on his arm, her back curled against his side. Carlton had one of Shawn's trashy books open with his free hand, turning the pages clumsily without moving his other arm. He glanced over after a small shift, making sure that Juliet was still soundly asleep.

Shawn found himself smiling as he sat on the other bed. "This is horrible," Carlton said quietly, though he didn't look away from the book. "You made someone else pay real money for this. Which is both a criminal offense and a crime against humanity."

"And yet you can't get enough of it." Shawn flopped back on the bed, stretching out. He glanced over several minutes later to find Carlton on the same page, obviously preoccupied. Shawn chewed his bottom lip for a moment before he softly said, "I'm sorry I didn't take the shot."

Carlton slowly brought the book down, laying it on the bedside table. "Do you blame me for it?"

"What?" Shawn said too loudly and immediately continued, "No. Of course not. Why... Why would I?"

"I had the same shot you did. Yang behind her cover. She was wide open, and neither of us took it."

Shawn nodded slowly, "Uh-huh?"

"So either both of us are to blame or neither of us are." Carlton met his gaze without even the smallest flinch, though his hand did curl somewhat around Juliet's shoulder. "Don't apologize unless you expect an apology from me. Got it?"

Shawn nodded and sank back down on the bed staring at the ceiling and contemplating a thousand things when a quiet chuckle drew him out of it again. He turned on the bed silently, watching Carlton's amused expression while he read.

\-----

Shawn tried to focus on something else, but it was difficult. He woke in the middle of the night, eyes flying wide as he bit back a warning shout. Shawn shivered, trying to push it down, push it away, but nothing worked.

He knew where he felt safest, and, at the moment, that was all he cared about. He pulled himself out of bed, hissing quietly at the stiffness in his leg that there always was when he hadn't moved it for too long. It took him approximately five minutes of limping before he made it to the other bed, slipping in next to Carlton, on the other side from Juliet.

Carlton stiffened, and Shawn silently swore, knowing that he had accidentally woken Carlton up. He shivered and curled up, hoping that Carlton wouldn't mind. It took him a few moments before he turned over – probably making sure he hadn't woken Juliet – but the moment he did, his arm went around Shawn's waist, pulling Shawn against him. "You all right?" Carlton whispered.

"Am now," Shawn murmured. "Thank you."

Carlton said nothing, but his lips brushed softly under Shawn's ear, and his arm tightened just enough to make Shawn feel safe.

In the morning, both Shawn and Juliet were curled up, clinging to Carlton who was helpless to move without disturbing the both of them. Pierre looked at the three of them with an amused smirk but said nothing.

The sleeping arrangements were set from then on.

\-----

"Jules?"

Juliet looked up at him, her eyes no less haunted than they had been since several nights ago. She didn't speak much, not even to Carlton, but Shawn was determined to help pull her out of it one way or another. It didn't help that he was antsy and nervous. They were a day or two outside of their projected arrival in New York, and Shawn would only have two days to find his Mom and try and catch a glimpse of her before they began the trek to their winter in Maine.

Shawn had splurged with Gus's credit card again, grabbing several more trashy romance books (they were entertaining in their own way, honestly), and a present for Juliet. He held out a plastic bag to her, smiling gently. He jiggled it when she looked at it curiously. "Go on. You'll like it. Promise."

She raised an eyebrow and glanced up at him with a deadpan look that she had to have picked up from Carlton. Shawn gave the most pitiful look he could, and Juliet rolled her eyes before taking the bag. For the first time in ages, her eyes lit up. She pulled brightly-colored books out of the bag, eight of them spilling into her lap.

Juliet laughed – a startled, quiet sound that made Carlton glance in the rearview mirror and Pierre turn to look from his place in the passenger seat. "How...?" She asked him.

Shawn tapped his temple, "I see all, Jules. I tried to get ones with Poison Ivy in them." He kicked his feet and glanced down at them, admittedly nervous after so long of silence between the two of them. "I thought you'd like Poison Ivy."

"I do," Juliet said, patting his hand before clutching her comics to her chest. "I... Thanks."

"Sure thing," Shawn said, flashing her a wide smile. He fished one of his own books out of the small pile at his feet. He picked one up and smoothed his fingers over the raised letters on the cover. He swallowed down a feeling of helplessness and tapped across them quickly, hoping.

And having hope, he thought, was one of the most important things he could have.

\-----

"Shawn," Carlton said his name for possibly the thirtieth time since they'd gotten to their hotel and rode the elevator up for way too long for a suite that was way too high and way too expensive and way better than anything else they'd had a chance to sleep in since their own beds at home, and that was probably for sentimental reasons anyway, and-

"Spencer," Carlton interrupted his thoughts, a firm hand on his shoulder. "Focus."

Shawn nodded sharply, practically bouncing in place as his eyes kept darting from Carlton's serious expression towards the large window that could see the distant horizon where the sun was almost completely gone. "I'm focusing," he lied. "I'm here."

"Shawn," Carlton said again, turning them so Shawn's back was to the window. "You can't talk to her. It'd be best if she didn't see you. Be careful."

Shawn rolled his eyes and turned to see the window again, just to make sure, but Carlton tugged him back, unrelenting. "Promise me."

"I'll be careful. It'll be fine." Shawn didn't know if it would be – the closer they've gotten to this day, this moment, the more anxious he became. He had so much he wanted to say to his Mom, so many things he needed to tell her – that he was safe, that he would be fine, that he had three of the best traveling companions ever, and he wouldn't be home for Christmas, but that it'd be okay in the end – and knowing that he couldn't was killing him. He could hardly imagine what it was doing to Carlton whose family was on the other side of the continent. Part of Shawn thought that it'd be easier, but then he wasn't so sure. Every hotel had a phone, and almost every night offered them a chance to break.

Carlton was glaring at him, too, which wasn't doing anything to make Shawn feel better about his decision to go through with this. Shawn took a steadying breath and met Carlton's eyes, attempting to be as sincere as he could be, "We'll be back by midnight, and I won't leave Pierre's side unless I have to run. I promise."

Carlton sighed somewhat reluctantly, but he patted Shawn's shoulder all the same. "All right. Okay. I'll see you in the morning."

Shawn nodded, both thrilled by and dreading the fact that the suite had enough rooms for them each to have their own for the night. He had no excuse to go slinking off to Carlton's bed, and that frightened him almost as much as the night ahead of him. His Mom's new address was still seared in his mind from the letters she'd written, and he could only hope that nothing had changed between then and now.

Which was funny, he thought, because, for him, everything had.

"Should be safe to get going," Pierre announced as he appeared from the doorway of his room. "Keep her safe."

Carlton nodded, "As best I can. And you take care of him."

Shawn rolled his eyes and shoved Carlton lightly, grinning when Carlton pushed back, childishly playing Shawn's game. He still wasn't smiling, was so obviously extremely worried, but even knowing that couldn't stop Shawn from doing what needed to be done for his own peace of mind if nothing else.

Before he followed Pierre, Shawn grasped Carlton's shoulder, squeezing it firmly, hoping to reassure him before saying, "Goodnight."

"Night," Carlton said, and Shawn left quickly before he could be convinced to stay.

The moment Pierre closed the door behind them, Shawn felt his anxiety and anticipation rush out of him. They were no longer building up to the moment that their own hunt began – it had, and it went along with every brisk step towards the elevator and then the exit into the cool evening. Shawn exhaled heavily just to see his breath puff into the air then turned with a grin to look at Pierre who smiled fondly at him. "Ready?"

"I was born Shawn Spencer," Shawn said seriously, "but I'm changing my name to Ready as of right now."

Pierre raised an eyebrow, "Supposing that means yes?"

"It means I'm nervous as hell, but yeah, I am."

Pierre patted his shoulder. "It's after dark. We aren't going to make contact. The city and night are ours. There's nothing to be nervous about."

"You say these things," Shawn complained as Pierre led the way down the sidewalk, "and I find myself not believing you."

"When have I ever lied to you?"

Shawn considered, "I'm not sure if you have. But I'm not entirely sure you haven't either. You're good at being amphibious."

Pierre laughed, "Ambiguous?"

Shawn huffed a frustrated sigh, "I've heard it both ways." When someone tried to come between them, Shawn instinctively reached for Pierre's hand, lacing their fingers together. Pierre touched him back, holding him close as they weaved along the sidewalk, looking for a good place to hail a cab.

"Won't Carlton be cross?"

"Thought you told me not to care too much about what Carlton thinks."

"I did." Pierre squeezed his hand gently. "But you went and did it anyway." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You're supposed to listen to your guide."

Shawn's heart thudded faster and louder as he took a chance, asking, "Was that from a guide or an interested party?"

"Would it matter if it were the latter?"

"Might," Shawn admitted, flushing warmly, his fingers squirming before settling comfortably in Pierre's grip.

"Might?" Pierre chuckled, "Then it might be a tiny bit of both."

"Only might be?" Shawn pouted.

"I'll give you more if you give it to me first."

Shawn tossed his head, his hair flipping slightly so he could give Pierre an exaggerated wink. "Why, Mr. Despereaux. You only had to ask."

Pierre shook his head but said nothing more until he pulled Shawn into a cab and gave the cab driver the address Shawn had memorized a lifetime ago. Shawn sat next to him and sighed, trying to push down his jitters. "It'll be all right," Pierre said.

Shawn tried to smile and failed. "I don't know when you're lying."

Pierre shrugged. "Trust me that when I lie, it's worth believing."

Shawn wasn't sure if he could manage that much trust or faith in anyone except for his own mother, and if he did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to for Pierre. He thought of Carlton and wished suddenly that it were the two of them in this cab on their way to see Shawn's mother. Only this time, in Shawn's imagination, they were jittery and nervous for other reasons, both smiling too widely, laughing, hand in hand and – Shawn inhaled sharply – in love.

Shawn shook his head and banished that thought back to the shadows it had come from. Carlton had been in love with someone else, married to her, and when this was over, he would go back to her. Shawn knew that. Maybe there was room for whatever they had between them now. It was convenient and it would work. But if he wanted to be able to move on when it was over, he needed to let that foolishly naïve idea go.

The cab stopped. Pierre paid the driver as Shawn stepped out into the street, getting his bearings and trying to figure out which way it was to his mother's apartment. Pierre joined him soon, took his hand, and they set off together. Each step made Shawn more nervous and excited, and he was grateful for Pierre's grounding presence that reminded him that no matter what, he would have someone with common sense to keep him from getting his parents and Gus killed.

Her apartment building wasn't in the best part of town, but it was far from the worst. Pierre leaned closer, and after a few instructions, Shawn found himself looking at her window, the blinds open to the night, the light gleaming. "This way," Pierre said, leading Shawn down a dark alley. He jumped and grabbed at the lowest rung of the fire escape, pulling himself up with surprising strength. "We'll get to the top of the building – should be a good vantage point."

Shawn eyed it warily. "There's no way I can make that."

Pierre leaned down and held out a hand. "Trust me."

Shawn took one last look towards where his mother was, and he jumped. Pierre's hand closed around his wrist, and Shawn grasped back with both hands, breathing heavily out of a mix of fright and exhilaration as Pierre hauled him up. Once he was safely on the ladder, he began climbing up to the platform then up the stairs, running until his lungs burned, the cold making it difficult to breathe in.

He knew he was making too much noise, but he didn't care. He had to see her. He had needed that since she had got on her plane and flown across the country to get away from Henry. His leg hurt, but the hurt only pushed him on. He had been shot to get this far – he had almost died, and he had seen people die, and he was almost there. He ran across the rooftop in long strides. He stumbled, pulled himself up, and almost kept running if not for Pierre suddenly grabbing him, steadying him. "Easy," he hissed warningly, but Shawn squirmed out of his grip and ran towards the other side of the rooftop.

It took him a moment or two to pick out her apartment from his new angle, but the moment he did, he couldn't tear his eyes away. Shawn's eyes honed in, taking in every small detail of her apartment. The thing that struck him was the jade-colored vase on the end table near the window. The flowers in it were fake, too brightly red, but one of the petals had fallen off from where his Mom had tugged on it too much, fidgeting with something nearby as she read the book that sat in her lap.

He could only see the barest hint of her face, most of it hidden by the angle and her hair, but he could see a hint of her expression to fill in the blanks himself. Shawn knew her calm focus like he knew the sound of her voice, like he knew how to notice that she was nervous in the way her shoulders slumped slightly and her fingers toyed with the red petals.

Shawn knew, suddenly, that this had been a horrible idea. He needed more, needed to talk to her, needed to let her know everything that had happened since she had left. He needed to hug her. Maybe cry. Ask her what he was supposed to do when he liked someone so much that it almost hurt. His Mom would know. She always knew everything.

"Was it worth it?"

Shawn shook his head, "No."

"Do you want to leave?"

He shook his head again, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He needed just a few more minutes. And if he sat down on the rooftop, watching in silence, hoping somehow that she would look at him, would call out to him, smiling, and wave him over... who could blame him? "She calls me Goose." Pierre said nothing, but he placed a comforting hand on Shawn's shoulder and left it there. And he said nothing when Shawn felt tears roll down his cheeks.

\-----

The hotel suite was dark and quiet when they made it in. Shawn didn't have the willpower to even pretend that he was going anywhere but to Carlton's room. He shrugged off Pierre's offer of comfort, as silent as he had been for most of the evening. Shawn didn't want Pierre's comfort. He yielded easily, giving Shawn what he thought he needed.

Carlton wouldn't compromise himself for Shawn's comfort, and that was, in itself, comforting. It was solid and safe and real, and Shawn needed that. He needed Carlton or else he wasn't going to be able to hold it all together.

Carlton's room was dark, but the light from the window revealed him sprawled out on his bed, enjoying the space he didn't often get to have because of Shawn and Juliet. That almost made Shawn pause, but he was selfish and needy, and he knew Carlton wouldn't hold it against him. Shawn kicked off his shoes and pulled off all his clothes but his boxers, too lazy to go fetch anything resembling pajamas.

Carlton's eyes blinked open when the mattress dipped. "Hey. You find her?"

Shawn nodded, but he still didn't feel like speaking. He clambered close, and pushed himself up to Carlton until Carlton pulled him into his arms. Carlton took a hint from him and said nothing. Shawn burrowed against him, clinging to him as tightly as he could manage. Shawn sighed and closed his eyes, not sure if he'd manage to fall asleep, but he knew he'd feel better here than anywhere else. Except for with his Mom.

He shivered and took a shaky breath, but he hid his tears against Carlton's neck, and Carlton's breathing and heartbeat were steady as his thumb rubbed a soothing circle on Shawn's shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

Carlton woke to find his bed still occupied. He was used to that – there was usually at least one teenager in his bed, and that thought made him laugh a little helplessly. He muffled it as best he could without realizing that he was pressing his mouth against Shawn's bare neck.

By the time he realized, Shawn had turned, throwing his leg and arm over Carlton, snuggling close with a sigh. "Hi," Shawn said, the first word since he'd come into Carlton's room the previous night. Carlton peeked an eye but immediately blinked both open, surprised by the sunlight. "We're stayin' another day," Shawn reminded him. "Jules probably needs her own clothes," he murmured, still half asleep.

Carlton didn't have the heart to dislodge him. "Probably," he agreed, his hand traveling up and down Shawn's back slowly. Shawn arched back into his touch, humming contentedly

They lay like that for several long moments before Shawn piped up quietly, "About last night. Thanks. For not asking."

Carlton nodded, "Yeah. Sure thing."

Shawn sighed, shifting in Carlton's arms until he could look up at him. He looked exhausted, his eyes and expression still tired and somewhat distressed. Carlton frowned in concern. Not asking was what Shawn wanted. But what he needed was a different story. "You gonna be all right?"

Shawn's gaze sharpened as he pulled himself out of the morning haze, his eyes flicking as he took in everything, his extraordinary gift telling him everything he needed to know in seconds. "Can you make it be 'all right'?"

Carlton sat up and scooted back, pushing them apart as he watched Shawn keenly. "When you got into my car, I promised I would do whatever it took to get you to the end of this. I never said it'd be a fun or easy journey, and I can't make it one. I'm doing the best I can."

Shawn's expression softened, "You've done a good job of taking care of me." Carlton almost bristled at that, waiting for the 'but' that had to follow. Shawn sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair, frustration showing even though his voice was calm. "This is my damage. Not yours. Sorry, Carlton."

"Not your fault. Unless you signed up for this-"

"Nah," Shawn shrugged it off. "Though if they'd asked first..."

Carlton knew that kind of talk well enough – he heard enough of his own self-pitying, self-loathing thoughts that it didn't take an incredible leap to realize that Shawn blamed most of this on himself and thought that it was better like this where he was out of everyone's way, only affecting those involved and no one else. Carlton supposed it was relatively easier than adulthood, but Shawn wasn't old enough to know that or appreciate it in a way that wouldn't make him miserable.

Shawn glared at nothing, his eyes moving quickly, no doubt thinking over the previous night, the previous month, the previous months since this had begun. Carlton remembered how they'd met, when Shawn had sauntered up to his table, offering everything, and Carlton couldn't help but wonder how they both would've fared on their own.

He doubted that if either of them had made it here on their own that they'd want to keep going for much longer. Even with Lightly and Despereaux aiding them and with Juliet to protect and care for, there was so much power in being able to look at one another and know that they were going through the same thing. They were terrified but laughing when they could. They were missing who they used to be, but with every step they were moving towards someone new if only to stay alive.

When he looked at Shawn, Carlton knew that he couldn't go back. Being an officer, a detective someday, Chief maybe – it would never suit him again. He'd never be able to properly put down roots – he'd be suspicious of everyone and everything except for those who knew exactly how he felt. And he'd never rest at night knowing there was some other poor bastard being hunted down, running for their life. Running like a rabbit.

Shawn, though – Shawn had a future, a family, people he cared for, and so much potential that he could probably do anything put in front of him. That was worth protecting, caring for, nurturing as best he could while still on the run. That was worth staying alive for.

"Earth to Carly Town."

Carlton blinked, suddenly realizing that Shawn had moved, kneeling between Carlton's legs, hands sitting on Carlton's knees while his eyes pierced Carlton through. "I was thinking," Carlton said, as if that explained everything.

"Could hear the hamster wheel squeaking all the way over there," Shawn said with a grin. "Think of anything special?"

Carlton shrugged and considered. He could lie, but Shawn was trusting him every day with his life. And Carlton trusted him back. He hoped that would be enough to hold them together. "Not much. Just... I'm glad." Shawn's expression turned curious, and Carlton forced himself to continue, "I'm glad you came over to me. In the bar."

"You're the one that's been keeping me alive," Shawn said with a small, fake chuckle.

"I don't think," Carlton said, his voice quiet and low, "that I'd still be willing to run. If it weren't for you." He turned his head away, trying to hide the emotions he could feel rising. There wasn't much of a place to hide, and from Shawn? He thought he could have been miles away with a bag over his head, and Shawn would still know everything. "I'd either have died in Denver or Dallas or given up before I even got to Miami."

"No," Shawn disagreed softly. "Carlton, you would've been fine. You would."

Carlton shook his head. He knew better, knew that without Shawn, he wouldn't have had a reason to pull himself back, to stop himself all of the times he had been almost beyond rational thought. In a way, Shawn was his link back to reality. Back to safety from his own temper and thoughtlessness.

"Carlton," Shawn said, his voice suddenly seeming to snarl as he demanded Carlton's attention.

Carlton was prepared to feel guilty, angry, sad, any number of unpleasant things that were the other side of the coin when it came to Shawn. He wasn't, however, prepared for the lips that pressed against his or the hands that grabbed his neck or raked into his hair, desperately clinging to him as if he might suddenly disappear.

He knew this road was only paved with disaster. But he also knew – because Shawn came to him when he needed to feel better, because Shawn had been looking to impress him even when he hadn't been speaking to him, because Shawn'd had enough time to see through him but he was still here, still wanting him – that he wouldn't fight anymore.

Shawn's kisses tasted like morning breath, but Carlton couldn't seem to care. Shawn scrambled up, and after several awkward movements between the both of them, he settled in Carlton's lap, tilting Carlton's head back to kiss him again and again, his hands stuck between wanting to hold still and wanting to wander every inch of the willing body beneath him. Carlton chuckled at his enthusiasm – he couldn't seem to stop touching either, hands running up and down Shawn's smooth back, mapping his spine with a careful press of his fingers.

Everything seemed to slow to a halt when Shawn rolled his hips, his half-hard cock rubbing against Carlton's own after a small shift to adjust. Shawn gasped, Carlton groaned, and the next time, they moved together. Shawn pressed down, and when he pulled back, Carlton rolled his hips up. The friction took his breath away. Carlton forced himself to remain patient, working with the slow pace Shawn set. He had been expecting fast, frantic, both of them desperate to get off as quickly as possible. This was different, slow, feeling each other and responding almost lazily. Savoring and taking their time, and it occurred to Carlton distantly that he hadn't been sure even half an hour ago that he'd ever be able to take his time with anything again.

Shawn suddenly stopped, pulling his head up and turning to look towards the door. Carlton, dazed, took a moment to catch on, but then he heard the lock pop open and the doorknob turn again. He had enough time to know they were going to be caught but not enough to do anything about it.

"Oh," Shawn said without a shred of embarrassment, "it's both of you." He turned his shoulder so Carlton could see. Juliet held her hands up to her mouth, giggling audibly. Carlton could see a hairpin poking out from between her fingers. Despereaux's expression was vaguely amused, an eyebrow raised as he tried to fight off a smirk.

"My apologies for interrupting. Thought you ought to know that we're going out to get Juliet some clothing. We should be back in a few hours." He glanced between them again before shaking his head. "Do try and stay out of trouble."

Juliet gave them one last look over and managed to say, "Bye" before scurrying off after Despereaux.

There was a moment of silence, then the front door opened and closed. Shawn didn't look back at him just yet. "Well," he said, "that was sufficiently awkward."

"Was," Carlton agreed, his stomach twisting into knots.

Shawn turned his attention back to him, grinning brightly. He pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Carlton's lips. "Breakfast?"

"Thank god," he breathed.

Shawn fell back on the bed laughing, and Carlton shook his head, smiling impossibly big as he watched Shawn. "Come on," Shawn managed finally. "We'll order some room service and try and forget that we were walked in on before we managed to get to the fun part."

"Weren't having fun?"

Shawn sat up, grinning, "Oh, I was. I just wasn't finished."

When Carlton stood, Shawn quickly rolled off the bed, grabbing his hand before he could get too far. "Carlton?" Carlton turned to face him, turning his hand so he could take Shawn's hand in his. "I know we both have a habit of thinking and talking too much, and not that anything has to happen... I mean, I want it to really really badly, but even if it doesn't, and if this never comes up again..." He paused, chuckled, and repeated, "Comes up," with a small shake of his head at the juvenile pun. 

"Anyway," he said quickly, before he could lose too much ground. "I just want to make sure that we're cool? Like..." Shawn obviously struggled for the words."I'm glad, too. That I came over to where you were. And that you were all suspicious and tailed me to the bathroom even though that scared the hell out of me then. But I don't know if I'd have made it this far alone, and I'm..."

He sighed and averted his eyes, letting his guard down enough to admit, "I'm glad I found you. And not just because you shot Ewing and hooked me up with Lightly and Pierre and all of that." Shawn raised his head enough to meet Carlton's eyes. "I'm with you. And I like that. Even if we finish this as just friends – I like that a lot."

"'Just' friends?" Carlton raised an eyebrow, but he didn't let go of Shawn's hand.

"Let me let you in on something. I may be friendly with a lot of people, but real friendships? Like the ones I want to keep? They don't happen very often, but they mean a lot to me." Shawn swung their joined hands with a grin. "Now let's order way too much food and gorge ourselves until the embarrassment goes away."

Carlton couldn't help how he looked toward the window, wincing at the sunlight. They were sitting ducks if Yin and Yang chose to strike. "The building across the way is full of occupied offices," Shawn said helpfully. "It'll be hard to sneak a gun in there to get at us. And either way, if we're going to die, we may as well have waffles beforehand."

Carlton rolled his eyes and elbowed Shawn gently. Shawn beamed cheekily up at him before letting go and scrambling for the room phone.

\-----

They filled themselves up with the hotels finest offerings from the breakfast menu. They spent the entire time talking about everything and nothing and laughing in-between bites of food, occasionally nudging each other as they slowly drifted closer and closer. By the time the last biscuit had mopped up the last stray crumbs of egg, they were sitting almost side by side, their knees and elbows knocking whenever either of them moved more than a few inches.

Shawn stared off at nothing again, and Carlton sighed softly, wishing the kid would let whatever was weighing on him see the light. Keeping it bottled up was clearly doing nothing for his nerves. "I've wanted to talk to her for months," he said finally, a hint of petulant whining in his voice. "She was right there, and I- I can't even let her know."

Carlton didn't have anything to say to that, but then Shawn didn't usually look for words in order to find comfort. He collapsed next to Carlton, head on his shoulder, and eyes pointed straight ahead as he breathed evenly. Trying to keep himself under control. Carlton understood that – hiding his emotions had been a regular exercise since he was about eight. Shawn, however, had never visibly struggled so hard with his own feelings.

He looped an arm around Shawn's shoulders, offering him a one-armed hug before settling and giving him time. Today, they had all the time in the world. Though he couldn't stop his mind from whirring, concocting a plan even as he tried to stop it.

\-----

Carlton zipped his jacket up, pulling the collar forward to protect his neck from the cold. He knew Shawn was suspicious – it was the only time since they'd met that Carlton insisted on being absolutely alone. He'd made sure Shawn saw him take his holster and gun for his protection, and he had made Shawn promise, for once, to sit still. Barring that, Despereaux and Carlton had come to an understanding. Shawn would stay in the apartment by any means necessary. It was vital that Carlton wasn't to be followed.

"Whatever you're planning, I implore you to reconsider."

Carlton had smiled grimly. "Can't. Something I have to do."

Juliet had been even more reluctant, but Carlton had promised after a hug that lasted too long that he would come back. He fully intended to keep that promise to the best of his ability, but after too much thinking – exactly as Shawn had said earlier – he knew his mission was necessary.

Luckily for him, the city was crowded at night, cars beeping in traffic as sirens wailed, seemingly always in the distance. People crowded the sidewalks, and even though it was well after dark, he took comfort in them. He was just another face, another lost soul aimlessly wandering, and no one would look at him twice.

Not unless, his mind warned, that they knew what to look for. He kept his eyes sharply keeping tabs on his surroundings, and, for a moment, he missed Shawn's abilities of hyperobservation. They would have been a welcome companion right now, just to be sure that neither of their hunters were anywhere in the nearby vicinity.

Shawn would have been a welcome companion too. They had spent the day mostly inseparable, lazing and watching television, indulging themselves the way they didn't often get to nowadays. Carlton shook his head – it was best if Shawn remained in the dark about this as much as possible. He shivered and tried to pull his jacket closer around him, feeling cold inside with nerves even as the temperature continued to drop.

On a busy street, Carlton slipped into a phonebooth, pulling the door closed. He held his breath, almost expecting the glass to shatter with a sudden shot. He was supposed to be safe at night, but that did nothing to ease his paranoia. He slipped coins into the phone, punched in 411, and waited.

Moments later, after an awkward conversation, Carlton found himself holding his breath again. Maybe he had met Madeline Spencer a long time ago, but if so, it had been in passing, a brief introduction to Henry's wife who left the picture not long after. But, this time, his heart hammered. He thought of Hank, Victoria, and Lauren, and he almost hung up, too worried about risking their lives for this, but the line clicking open stilled his hand. "Hello?"

Carlton found himself speaking quickly, "Hello. Is this Madeline Spencer?"

Hesitantly, she answered, "Yes. And this is?"

Carlton gripped the phone tighter. "I can't say." He heard her sigh, and Carlton quickly said, "Please don't hang up! Please."

"Listen, sir. I don't have the time or patience for whatever you're selling-"

Carlton blurted with none of the gentleness that he'd intended, "It's about your son."

There was a long silence, and Carlton was afraid that she'd hung up anyway. But Madeline's voice came back, slow and even, angry but hiding it well. "What do you know about him?"

Carlton let go of the tension that had coiled in his shoulders, straightening up subconsciously. He had to give a proper report, respectful but not too detailed. He had to let her know what Shawn couldn't. "I met Shawn around a month and a half ago, not long after he vanished from home. We've been traveling together ever since. He's a good kid. Smart."

"And Shawn couldn't have made this call himself?"

Carlton forced his tone to remain even, "Shawn couldn't. There are... circumstances preventing him from it. He wanted to. Very much. But he's- he's trying to protect you." Silence. "I'm keeping him as safe as I can. I'll get him home as soon as possible." He closed his eyes, wishing fervently that she could understand if he prayed hard enough. "I'm sorry."

Madeline Spencer's voice was colder than everything else in the world, "I can tell you're at least attempting to tell me the truth, but let me make myself clear. If anything happens to my son, or if I find out this was a prank, I will not rest until you understand how much pain I'm in." Her breathing hitched, "Bring my son home. And tell him, when you can... tell him I love him."

"I will." Carlton nodded firmly. "I promise. I'll do everything I can."

Carlton thought that conversation had been one of the hardest of his life, but the moment he settled the phone gently back in its cradle and turned around, he found himself freezing again, staring wide-eyed out of the glass doors at the toothy smile of the woman he knew as Yang.

He almost went for his gun, but she tilted her head, nodding slightly to the side to indicate that he should come outside. And in this crowd? He knew he couldn't shoot her without drawing attention, getting arrested, and abandoning Shawn the way he'd just promised that he wouldn't.

There was no place left to run, and Carlton was man enough to admit when he was beaten. He took a steadying breath and stepped out of his shelter. Yang's grin widened, "Hello, Carlton."

"Yang." He shivered as she stepped closer, looping her arm through his, elbow and elbow linked, pulling him along with the crowd. He went willingly, each step feeling like a step closer to the gallows. "Shawn didn't know about this."

"And you didn't know Maddy," Yang said, smiling forward. "You know, Carlton, I usually go for guys like you. The ones who love rules. Who memorize them the moment they get their envelope, and then never stray off the straight and narrow." She turned her sharp gaze upwards, eyes darkly glimmering. "Everyone has their exceptions. Sometimes a pretty girl." She fluttered her eyelashes, her expression turning knowing. "A pretty boy. And then you weave your way through them and oh!" She reeled with excitement, her steps bouncing. "You get so creative!"

"And then you punish us."

"Carlton!" She looked somewhat offended, though her too-big smile still hadn't flickered. "Not usually. Most of the people lose on their own merits. You're still safe – it _is_ nighttime, after all. That and I'm afraid you're Yin's. He prefers the chaos, usually. More fun, he says. More of a challenge, which may be true. But then you're so well-prepared. We may prove him wrong." She patted his arm in a friendly manner that made him tense up.

"However," Yang mused, "you breaking the rules affects Shawn – he's my little rabbit this time around, in case you hadn't worked it out, and that means this concerns me and you. You can tell him you talked to Maddy, and that'll take such a weight off his shoulders." She tutted unhappily. "Can't have that, but it's already out of our hands."

"I won't tell him," Carlton growled.

"Even if you don't, do you think he won't figure it out?" Yang shook her head sadly, "Our boy's too smart for that. He sees everything, doesn't he?"

"Stop calling him that," Carlton snarled quietly, aware that he'd drawn a few quick stares but then the crowd moved, and they were alone in the sea of people again. "He's not yours."

Yang leaned up, tucking her mouth near his ear, whispering intimately. "In the night, he might be yours, but in the daytime, Carlton, you mustn't forget that he's all mine." She pulled herself back down, "He'll know. You may as well tell him. Be happy."

"And that's it, is it?"

Yang shook her head and stood suddenly still, pulling him to a stop next to her. "Look at all of them," she ordered, her voice suddenly serious and quiet. Carlton did, surprised by what he saw. It had been so long of focusing only on the people around him and the people chasing him that he'd almost completely lost touch with the world when it was normal.

There were people in groups, couplings, and those few like him who were alone. A few children, up past their bedtime, held their parents' hands while shuffling through the crowded sidewalk. Someone stood nearby, strumming a guitar, her case open at her feet where very little money had made its way.

There was a man in a nearby alley, covered in ratty layers, trying to sleep as he huddled out of the wind. People passed by without giving him a second glance, either unaware or forcing themselves away from the worst of it all. By that same method, none of them could realize that Yang was one of the people who terrorized him. Was one of the people responsible for his eventual death.

"So innocent," she said. "None of them know that tomorrow they could be running for their lives. They don't know how quickly all of this could be gone." Carlton didn't answer, pressing his lips together in a thin line. "They will." She stroked her finger gently over his clothed arm.

"Pick one," Yang said.

"What?" He tried to pull away, but her grip was stronger than he'd given her credit for.

She turned her smile to him, shark-like, sharp, threatening silently. "Pick one of them. I can't kill the people in your envelope – those are for when you break Yin's rules. Instead, you broke Shawn's in his place."

"He didn't know," Carlton growled.

"He didn't have to," Yang said. "Quit stalling and pick one." When Carlton hesitated, Yang leaned closer, putting her head intimately on his shoulder. "If you don't, I will. And I'll pick one of the ones that'll hurt. Maybe the mother over there with the child looking in the window. One moment, she's looking at Christmas present ideas, and the next, she's little orphan Annie."

Carlton swallowed dryly. He couldn't do this. He couldn't condemn someone else to death. "Me."

Yang patted his arm. "Oh, Carlton. So noble. But no. Those aren't the rules." She smiled up at him. "You have to live with this. And you have until I count to three to choose. Or I do."

"One." Carlton shook his head, but found his eyes scanning. He couldn't do this. It wasn't his place to judge. He couldn't – shouldn't – try to play God like this. But then his eyes lingered on the girl, her shadow eclipsing the light of the window, face pressed close as she looked at the wonders beyond. Her mother stood nearby with a fond smile.

"Two." He began to search frantically. Surely, amidst all the people, he could find someone... someone who maybe deserved it more than they did, than the innocents. Some drug dealer or thief. Carlton spotted no one obvious, and he could hear the hum of the next word in Yang's throat.

"Thr-"

"The bum." Yang looked up at him expectantly. Carlton's heart hammered in his chest as he closed his eyes, forcing the hated words out, "The man in the alley. The one asleep."

"Open up," she ordered, smacking his cheek lightly with her free hand. "Look at him. And keep your eyes open." Carlton took a deep breath and obeyed, eyes locking immediately onto the huddled form.

A shot rang out.


	17. Chapter 17

The phone rang.

Shawn wasn't sure what was said exactly, but he didn't have to. Pierre's shoulders tensed, his eyes cutting to look at Shawn, eyebrows lowered as he spoke quietly. Juliet was watching something, but Shawn was barely aware of it. He couldn't read lips, not even a little, but body language was an open book.

He knew.

He was on his feet in an instant, running for the door, unsure of where he was going or what he was going to do, but that call was about Carlton, and he had to get to him _now_. Pierre dropped the phone and grabbed him, dragging him back, pushing him towards the couch. "Sit."

Shawn fought. He brought his elbow up, pushing Pierre back, punching with his other fist when Pierre continued to push him back. Pierre pinned his shoulders to the couch, growling, "Stop." Shawn didn't listen. He had managed to wriggle up and out, running for the door again when it swung open.

Carlton was looking more pale than usual, shaken, but even as Shawn cataloged it, he couldn't stop himself from running at him, checking quickly with his hands to make sure that his friend was completely put together. Carlton caught his hands, glancing down at him, looking somehow more deeply wounded than he had since Shawn had met him.

"Are you okay? We got a call but-"

"There was a shooting," Carlton said, his voice eerily flat. "They weren't aiming at me. It was a coincidence." He nudged Shawn away from him, but Shawn paused, looking him over. Coincidence? Shawn doubted it. And Carlton was hunched slightly, defensive even as he tried to seem unaffected. "I'm fine."

"You promised," Juliet interrupted them, her arms crossed as she lifted her chin. She blinked several times, her eyes glistening with tears she was refusing to shed. Shawn looked between her and Carlton, both of them too stubborn and too hurt to do much except stare each other down.

Shawn took a step away from them both, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire when the line of tension snapped. Before it could, Carlton's shoulders sagged just enough to be noticeable, slightly hanging his head in guilt. "I know," he said, defeated. "It wasn't supposed to happen."

Shawn resisted the urge to go to him and offer him comfort, assuming that Carlton would want his space. Juliet, on the other hand, was wrapped up in a hug in a blink of an eye, burying her head against his chest and clinging to him as if he might vanish. Shawn felt something rise with the bile in his throat that came from worry and nerves. Jealousy.

He pushed it down, hoping that if he tried hard enough he wouldn't be. Juliet had lost everybody. Pierre wasn't anyone she could hope to rely on, and Carlton was about as sturdy as a person running for their life could be. And it wasn't like she was going to replace Shawn. She was well-below legal even if it seemed like she wanted him that way, but she didn't even want it. She just needed support.

But, hell, he needed it too. Carlton could have died with all of those fake promises of being safe and staying out of trouble still ringing in Shawn's ears, and he would remember him forever with that fond smile before he left. If Shawn took a moment to breathe, he could remember it with perfect clarity and the gut-wrenching terror he was still reeling from.

It didn't come as a surprise when Pierre's hand came down on his shoulder, shaking him slightly out of the horrified, blank stare he'd been giving the wall just to the right of Carlton.

He needed the support too, and Carlton was busy, stumbling slightly to the sink with Juliet's help. Shawn's eyes followed them, helplessly recording the stumble, the limp Carlton was sporting from something, and even if it wasn't a bullet, it was damn scary because out of all of them, Shawn couldn't lose Carlton.

It was selfish and horrible. He knew that. Which was why he allowed Pierre to pull him closer, turn his face away, and give him someone to lean on even though the person he wanted was currently occupied. Shawn didn't cling to him, but he pressed his head against Pierre's shoulder, shivering as he finally began to calm down.

"You punched me," Pierre said distractingly.

Shawn snorted a quiet laugh. "Didn't even hurt you."

Pierre's arm settled around his waist, hand spread out on Shawn's back, "You should trust me. Running out there would have done nothing but upset or injure you." Shawn was sorely tempted to pull away because he knew how the rest of this conversation went, but he could hear them in the other room, speaking in hushed, muffled voices, and he knew he deserved what Pierre was going to say to him.

"You mustn't equate your survival with his." Pierre bent his head, muttering in his ear, inaudible to the others. "You can't save him. All you can do for both of you is keep yourself alive. The less he has to worry about you, the more he can keep his head. You understand?"

Shawn hissed bitterly, "And I suppose it must make your job easier if we behave and do as you say?"

"The last thing I want is to see you dead for whatever reason it may be," Pierre said, his voice a low rumble. "There are certain things I cannot help you with or protect you from. Then there are things that require your cooperation. You are in peril often enough as it is. You want him to live? Keep yourself alive and out of danger." The somewhat irritated tone to his voice wasn't something Shawn had heard often, and the moment Shawn did, he knew the fun and games were at least postponed to a later date. "And yes, that means listening to me when I tell you not to run into a situation that I clearly knew was a threat."

Shawn sighed, sagging in defeat. It was true. He knew it was. Part of him demanded that he rebel – he hadn't run away from home just to be given directions from a different overbearing man – but when he turned his head, Pierre's expression wasn't anything like Henry's usual mix of disappointment, irritation, and stubbornness.

Instead, Pierre looked older. Tired. Not even having the decency to be angry but somehow the calm resignation concerned Shawn more. "I'll do my best not to get myself killed. From here on out."

Pierre chuckled and accused quietly, his eyes meeting Shawn's, "Liar."

"Doing my best may occasionally mean putting myself in danger. Or getting hurt. But I really, really don't want to get shot again or die, and that's not for you or Carlton at all." He smiled widely, aware of the panic in the back of his head. He was too young and too pretty to die, but those weren't the rules right now. He wasn't indestructible. He wasn't even sure if he was the main character of this action movie – it could be Carlton or Pierre or maybe even Juliet. And sometimes even action heroes died or their love interests or whatever else Shawn was.

"Breathe," Pierre instructed him, and Shawn realized that in his fearful haze, with his heart pounding and mind racing that he'd neglected to inhale. His breathing shuddered, his vision spinning, and his hands gripped onto Pierre's crisp shirt as he buried himself against the taller man.

He didn't even care if the others saw. He needed someone to hold him up, and that person obviously wasn't going to be the guy with the limp and the obvious recent trauma.

Shawn tried to sort through it quickly, trying to figure out what he'd seen, why he'd reached that conclusion, and why it meant that he needed to give Carlton his space. His eyes flicked quickly over nothing, his memory calling everything back from the moment the door had opened, and Shawn had seen Carlton's wide, shocked eyes.

He tried. But before he could delve too deeply, Pierre's arms around him tightened, one hand sliding up to rub soothingly but firmly between his shoulderblades. "Stay with me."

"S'that an offer?"

Pierre snorted, "Surprised you still have time in the day to try and play games with me."

"I'm great at multitasking."

"Shawn."

"Mhm?" Shawn hummed as he rested his head on Pierre's shoulder.

Pierre's hand slid up more, gently cradling his head, fingers lacing into his hair. "Teasing or no. If there's anything I can do... please. Don't hesitate to ask."

"Even knowing I'm playing games with you?"

Pierre turned his head, pressing a brief kiss to Shawn's forehead. "I've survived worse." Part of Shawn, the part that had actually listened when Henry had forbid him from using his shortcomings as an excuse to get away with terrible things, hesitated, but the rest of him gave in to the impulse to snuggle closer and let himself have even a brief moment where nothing else mattered.

"I'm going to bed," Carlton announced. Shawn looked towards the bathroom entrance where both he and Juliet stood. There was something immediately concerning in Carlton's expression, something Shawn couldn't easily identify. It was disinterested instead of sharp. Lost. Before Shawn could ask, Carlton continued. "We should probably leave before 5:30. Hopefully we can get out of the city on the road headed north before sun up. Going up the coast to Maine, right?" Pierre nodded, and Carlton turned towards his room, throwing a careless "Goodnight" over his shoulder.

When the door closed, there was a moment of silence before the unmistakable sound of a lock turning over.

"Is he okay?" Shawn asked, pulling himself out of Pierre's hold and looking towards Juliet. She seemed calmer than she had before, but her arms were crossed, and she was looking at the closed door.

Finally, she shrugged, "No physical damage. He's upset but he won't say why." With a frown, she looked at Shawn, "He said he wants to sleep alone tonight."

"That's fair," Shawn said, biting down on the panic that threatened to rise anew. He could do it without Carlton. He'd be fine, honestly, really, but not even having the option to creep into the place he felt safest had him alarmed and keyed up.

After a few more minutes, Juliet excused herself to her room.

Pierre and Shawn stayed up for hours watching television. Shawn half expected Pierre to take the chance and make his move, but he sat on the opposite end of the suite couch, hands kept chastely to himself as he let Shawn run the remote and dictate the channels. Shawn found softcore porn and glared pointedly at Pierre who didn't flinch, watching with the same attention he had everything else.

Shawn turned the television off and flopped back on the couch.

The offer between them had been standing for ages, since the Gulf of Mexico which somehow seemed to be years behind them. He knew Pierre had meant each reiteration sincerely, and Shawn's reciprocations hadn't been just in fun. Shawn tried not to think about it too much as he reached out and poked Pierre with a sock-clad foot.

He couldn't equate his survival with Carlton's. And he couldn't equate the two confusing opportunities with each other. Carlton... he couldn't deny that he cared for Carlton. And maybe that was why he needed to back away from him. Give them both space to breathe before, gasping, they'd reach for each other and both drown.

When he thought about Carlton's eyes when he'd walked through that door, the way he'd seemed to be so hurt as he'd basically pushed him away, Shawn wanted nothing more than to break down the door and find out what Carlton needed and how he could help. It was probably for the best that he couldn't. Or wouldn't.

Pierre's head turned, eyes sparking with something new. As if he could sense what Shawn wanted from him. He took a deep breath, eyes sliding slowly down Shawn's body. "Please," Shawn said, his voice quiet enough that the others couldn't hear through their doors, "make me forget."

Pierre turned his body to face Shawn, pulling himself across the couch, crawling really until he was promisingly close. "No games," he said gently, eyes meeting Shawn's as one hand fell and caressed his ankle.

"No games," Shawn agreed. He sat up to meet Pierre, his heart thudding hard in his chest as the older man cupped his face gently. The first soft press of his lips had Shawn giggling helplessly, the brush of his mustache tickling unexpectedly above his upper lip. Pierre chuckled too, his thumb brushing Shawn's jaw as Shawn tilted his head enough for the kiss to deepen.

Everything about Pierre was soft. Yielding to what Shawn demanded yet always suggesting more. It took no time before Pierre's body covered his, his tongue plundering Shawn's mouth as one hand slid possessively down Shawn's side, pulling him up, flush against Pierre.

His first startled moan had them moving clumsily to Pierre's bedroom, connected at the mouth as they stumbled through to the bed. Shawn thought he heard the door shut and lock click, but he couldn't find it in him to care right at that moment. Not when hands were wandering up his shirt and the bed was just behind his knees.

Pierre began pulling off their clothes as Shawn's hands too eagerly took advantage of the skin presented to him. His own shirt was gone, his pants and underwear around his thighs, and Pierre's shirt opened when Pierre's hand closed around him. Shawn arched towards him, fingers tightly gripping Pierre's shoulders.

Before he could ask questions, he was pushed back onto the mattress, sitting with his bare ass against the scratchy hotel blankets. Pierre dropped to his knees in front of him, kissing down Shawn's stomach, slow, taking his time as if they had all of it in the world.

His eyes flicked up to meet Shawn's briefly before dropping back down to where his cock jutted proudly out, flushed and erect for Pierre to observe for a moment too long. Shawn felt like he was blushing all over or maybe burning up, a fever of arousal.

Shawn bit his lip, pushing his hips forward instinctively the moment he felt the wet flat of a tongue laving at him. A fist wrapped around the base, keeping him in check as Pierre stretched his mouth around him, sliding down to meet his fingers. Rhythm and counter-rhythm and Shawn wanted to know what Pierre was humming a second before his body realized that oh _fuck_ humming.

"Pierre," he whispered, and Pierre glanced up at him. For a moment, Shawn felt panic rising, afraid that somehow in the grand scheme of things he'd somehow gone very wrong until Pierre moved his hands to hold his hips, relaxing his jaw as he took all of Shawn in.

Pierre gave him what he wanted, what he needed, stripping it away each time his head bobbed down, mouth stretching wider as Shawn slid again and again, deeper into that warm, wet, perfect mouth. Granted him blissful freedom from the thoughts and memories that plagued him, his mind no longer capable of moving rapidly from one thing to another. All he could focus on was how he needed more.

He clutched at the bedding so tightly his hands ached. Pierre swallowed around him, and Shawn felt every devoured inch sending waves of pleasure arcing through his body, electric and thrilling. His hips pushed in, seeking more, riding closer and closer to the edge. Shawn scrambled for words but they all failed him, leaving him with broken syllables and wordless pleading.

"Gon-" He tried, his throat and mind working towards a common goal though he couldn't quite remember what. "Gonna. P-Pierre!" He threw his head back, body pushing up until that firm grip settled him against the bed again. "I'm. Come. Close," he managed finally, his hips pushing forward against the pace Pierre set.

"So close. So, so so, so so so," he murmured, lost in sensation, and when he looked down, he really looked at Pierre's expression, deep concentration except for his mouth, wide around him, taking him in with no problems, no questions, no complications.

And he supposed, somewhere in his head, that was somehow important.

The rest of him was lost in a sea of sensation, demanding silently that he give himself over. Shawn's own eyes finally closed, his head tilted back as he moaned. One hand wandered away from his hips, and Shawn barely felt the press just behind his balls before the tightness in him snapped. He bucked up, sure that he must be screaming loud enough for the world to hear before he fell and was back in a hotel room. Half-dressed, and his guide wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, a smear of Shawn's come glistening on his wrist.

Shawn fell back on the bed, boneless. He knew he should reciprocate, should give Pierre something in exchange for that, but his mind was too blissfully clear, and he couldn't even articulate that one simple thought. He tried to protest, but Pierre hushed him. He pulled off the rest of Shawn's clothes and then his own. Shawn's eyes flicked to Pierre's dick which was admittedly looking like it could use a bit of love. Shawn eyed the curl of foreskin and the exposed, glistening head with fascination, but he could barely reach a hand out before it fell back to the bed. He was so tired all of a sudden.

"'m s'rry," Shawn said, trying to move again, but Pierre hushed him.

"Don't be," he said gently though his voice was rough from his throat's abuse. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm," he hummed sleepily.

"Rest," Pierre ordered, helping him up the bed and beneath the blankets. "You can repay me later if you like. Sleep for now."

"'kay." He heard Pierre vanish into the only bedroom-adjacent bathroom in the suite, barely registering the sound of the door closing before he fell asleep.

\-----

Shawn woke in the rarely-seen interval between too damn late and too damn early, his eyes blinking slowly open without his say so. There was an arm around him, warm and comforting but wrong. Not the one he was used to.

He pulled himself out of that warm embrace and the bed, legs moving like jelly even as the injury stiffened and pained as usual. He found his boxers nearby and stumbled clumsily into them before slipping out into the silent suite. Carlton's door was locked, resistant to his touch, and he couldn't bring himself to break in. He knocked three times, loud enough to be heard by someone awake and quiet enough to not wake the sleeping.

The ensuing long minutes of silence answered the question for him, and he found himself sliding down the door frame, leaning against the door. He shuddered slightly to think that Carlton would have heard them earlier and hoped Carlton understood. It wasn't personal. It wasn't even a choice. But somehow meaningless sex soured in his mind when it was accompanied with the idea of meaningful connection. Something he had never quite achieved.

He probably never would. Thinking back on every relationship he'd had, however fleeting, from the two months of committed, juvenile fluff to the date that never happened with Abigail Lytar, he couldn't think of a single moment when he didn't know that eventually he would move on.

That just seemed to be the way of things. The one person he could rely on day in and day out no matter what was Gus, but at the end of the day, he'd still chosen college over Shawn. Chosen himself over Shawn. And he should. Because Shawn knew he'd always go for the selfish decision himself, and it wasn't fair to ask anyone – not Gus, not Abigail, not Carlton – to be selfless and let themselves be hurt for him.

His hand clenched into a trembling fist, and he ducked his head, leaning more against the door as tears drifted down his cheeks, pooling on his chin before dripping off onto his bare torso. How sad he must look, almost naked, curled up, and crying in the doorway of someone he cared about deeply but not enough to ever change himself.

It was a difficult truth. And it had taken totally clearing his mind to see it for what it was.

"I'm sorry," he managed, his voice raspy and dry, making it more difficult to speak thanks to the lump in his throat. "You deserve better than me. And I mean, you've got it. We'll get you out of this. Get you home and to that wife of yours. You can go on. Raise a family – you'll be a great dad, Carlton, if you just loosen up a little. Be the best cop you can be. Protect all the people that need protecting. Because I-" He shivered. "They need you to."

"And you?" It was so soft that Shawn might have missed it for all of his sniffling and the thoughts that paraded loudly through his head.

"I'll always be a mess," he said, the exhaustion of sex and his emotions making him more truthful than he'd dare be otherwise. "I'll just... move it around. So that I'm not..." He gulped and forced himself to continue, "not in the way."

Carlton sighed from the other side of the door. "It's not just you. You're not the only one that..." He sighed again, left the thought unfinished, and started over with a different one, "Shawn, about what happened tonight. I need some time. Maybe a lot of it. I don't know, but it's not your fault. I'd love to pick up where we left off this morning. I really would, but there's no way I can. Not now, not for a while." Shawn saw shadows moving at the edge of the door, and his own hand fell, reaching into the gap underneath the door, touching the tips of his fingers to Carlton's. "If he makes you happy or makes this even the littlest bit less painful, then go for it." There was a long pause, uncomfortable and somehow exhausted in every way as Carlton murmured, "I don't want to be in the way either." Carlton pulled his hand away. "Go get some sleep, Shawn."

"Goodnight, Carlton," he said, wiping the stiff tear tracts off his face.

"Goodnight."

Shawn pulled himself up, wincing at the continued stiffness in his leg. He'd barely surveyed the possible options before limping towards a darkened doorway. He closed the door behind him gently and kicked off his boxers before climbing into bed. He'd barely touched the other warm body before Pierre moved, graceful even in his sleep, pulling Shawn back into his arms and nuzzling his head into the crook of Shawn's neck.

It took him a surprisingly short amount of time before he managed to fall back asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

The third night in a row that he woke up from the nightmare, he wondered if it wouldn't be better to stop running, wait for sunrise, and let it all go. He couldn't keep the moment from replaying itself again and again in his head, the split second when the shot sounded in his ears, and the mark, the man he'd killed, had stopped shivering from the cold and fallen limp, blood dripping from the wound in his head.

It found him in the quiet moments, sneaking up out of the dark, striking him before he'd had a chance to realize it was coming. It was the little things that struck him. In the panic immediately afterwards, the mother had swept up her daughter, holding her close and running away from the noise. Everyone except for Yang and him had run, all of them passing by, none of them seeing the corpse tucked into the alley.

He had been a man with hopes and dreams and a family, somewhere. Someone who loved him. And Carlton had picked him out, had chosen him, because he'd been hidden away, alone, and, in the panic of the moment, Carlton had thought he wouldn't be missed. His reasoning haunted him more than the act itself, and he found himself unable to sleep, the guilt weighing so heavily that every time he felt himself starting to rest, the image burst in his head.

Only, as his exhaustion got worse, the face changed. Shawn was the most common replacement. He wasn't sure what that said about him, that it wasn't someone from his life before but the damn kid.

The fourth time the images flashed through his mind, he gave up, leaving the room behind to stand outside in his pajamas, letting the cooler air bite at him. They were heading north to the cabin, to wait out the winter, defend themselves, and hope and pray it would be enough to make Yin and Yang lose interest.

He didn't have much faith in that, himself, but what other option did he have if he didn't have backup?

He heard the door open and close behind him, and he inhaled quickly, listening, trying to determine who was behind him before they spoke. It was the silence that warned him. Shawn and Despereaux knew to make themselves known before sneaking up on him. Juliet, on the other hand, preferred silence when she could have it.

She leaned against the railing near him, her hair loose, twisting gently in the wind. She gave him a quick smile before looking out towards the coast. She shivered at the cold, and Carlton scooted over, letting her lean against him. "You should be asleep."

"So should you," she said easily, resting her head on his arm, eyes fluttering in an effort to stay open.

They both had nightmares now. Carlton still woke up every few nights to Juliet grabbing onto him for support, her grip tight and tears on her cheeks, and it was easily the most obvious thing that kept him going, pushed him from day to day when it seemed like nothing else could. He couldn't abandon her. Not when she'd put all her faith in him, relying on him to stand tall and firm when everyone else had fallen.

"You gonna be okay?"

The question was a difficult one to answer without flat-out lying. "Someday, maybe. You?"

Juliet smiled sadly, her eyes closing with a final, heavy sink. "I keep wondering where he is. And when he's coming back. Hard to move on when every step feels like the beginning again."

Carlton's heart clenched tightly, and he put his arm around her, saying nothing. Silence was, between them, the best form of comfort.

\-----

They were in New Hampshire when they saw it first. Snow. The first few flakes that flitted in front of the windshield and the windows Carlton wrote off as his mind playing tricks on him. Just something he imagined he saw out of the corner of his eye while Despereaux drove and he focused on his book of crosswords.

However, it wasn't long before they started actually coming down, a full flurry that had Juliet glued to the window, eyes wide and watching them race to the ground. Carlton himself turned his eyes down to his work, trying not to think of the fact that he was encased, trapped, and surrounded by snow.

When they stopped to get lunch, Carlton visibly flinched as the first flake kissed his cheek, melting instantly against his skin. Saw Shawn looking at him and took an unsteady breath, sweeping past him, headed hurriedly inside. He brushed his hands back through his hair, grimacing at the length and at the cold wet drops in it. Shivered. Jumped when Shawn's hand landed on his other arm. The question in his eyes was enough. He shook his head, patted his hand and pulled away. They had enough problems without his insane phobias making it worse.

They were going to be in the cabin for possibly months while surrounded by snow. He was going to have to learn how to deal with it. Even stuck his hands out on the way back to the car, watching as small flakes gathered and melted on his skin, leaving them seared with cold.

Stuck his hand back in his pocket and wrapped them in the fabric, trying to wipe the cold touch away.

\-----

That night, the nightmare he had wasn't one he'd had to deal with in a long time. He rolled out of bed and paced across the crowded room, peeking outside and scowling when he saw the steady fall of snow. If it was either go out there and deal with that or get back in bed and pretend nothing was wrong, then he knew the decision he'd make every single time. Reluctantly climbed back into the warm beneath his blankets, laying not far from Juliet and stared up at the black ceiling.

Every time his eyes fluttered, he saw the man with the hole in his head and he felt the snow falling on him and he knew there was no escape.

\-----

Up the interstate, and up another highway, and they arrived at Millinocket, the nearest town to their cabin and their primary source of non-cabin related visits for the rest of the winter. They stopped in town long enough to grab groceries, personal essentials, as Despereaux assured them that the cabin would be already be well-stocked and prepared.

By the time they arrived at the cabin, it was more than dark, and it wasn't until the headlights flashed across the wooden walls that it became more than a shape in the dark of the woods. When they made it inside, Carlton was covered in snow, desperate to get it off as Despereaux fiddled with the lock and then found the light switch inside.

"Electricity, running water, and a fireplace that does fairly well at keeping the place warm," Despereaux said as he darted seemingly randomly around the room. It took Carlton a moment or two to realize that he was searching for traps before he visibly relaxed. "Lightly's done his job. I'll call him and tell him we've arrived. There are three rooms, three beds, and a couch if anyone is so inclined. I suggest you pick a place and settle in. This is home until further notice."

Carlton didn't miss the way he touched Shawn on his way to the kitchen where, presumably, the phone was. His hand drifted down, patted his hip, and then pulled away. Familiarly. Carlton couldn't even manage jealousy. He was too exhausted, too worn down for that.

The three rooms were decorated in mute colors, unassuming, comfortable. He chose the one at the far end of the hall, tossing his suitcase on the bed and collapsing next to it. Weariness settled into his bones, made it difficult to move or stay awake. He knew he should go and oversee the conversation with Lightly, should make sure Shawn and Juliet were okay.

Instead, he turned his head, eyes blinking at the window, watching the snow fall and shuddering until he fell prey to his nightmares again. He woke up once in the night, the gentle sound of careful footsteps startling him out of his sleep. The room was dark even though he'd left the lights on, and he could barely make out the shape that moved up the bed.

A quilt, rough and old, heavy, _safe_ covered him. Shawn's hands tucked the quilt around him before moving down and pulling off his shoes and tucking the quilt in there, too. Warmly cocooned, Carlton blinked blearily up at him.

"Go back to sleep," Shawn said gently, patting his leg over the blanket. "And have sweet dreams for once, okay?"

Carlton nodded, murmured, "Thanks," before rolling over on his side.

"You're welcome."

"Shawn," he said before he could make it to the door. Swallowed nervously, and he was too tired, too out of it, and he'd be willing to make all the excuses in the world tomorrow. "Stay with me."

Shawn hesitated, looking towards the door, but after quick deliberation, he crossed the room again. "All right. Can do."

It wasn't fair to him. Carlton knew that. Asking him to stay would only fuel the thing he'd tried to put an end to in New York, the affair that was still catching them both, looks that lasted too long, accidental touches, caring beyond what they should. Shawn deserved someone who could give him more than that, who wouldn't demand this kind of affection and support from him and then hang him out to dry.

"You're thinking too loudly," he murmured warmly as he lay on the bed next to him. "It's fine." Slowly he pulled up the quilt and slid in next to Carlton, wrapping an arm around him and resting his head against his back. "Just go to sleep, Carlton. I'm not going anywhere."

Before Carlton could protest, he was dropping off into sleep, resting, finally, and feeling safe in Shawn's arms.

\-----

The snow was still falling in the morning. It was the first thing he saw, the flakes drifting down at a steady pace, dancing, whirling around each other in the cold wind that seemed to be a universe away. Carlton was so warm, between the heavy quilt on top of him and Shawn pressed against his back, arm curled around him, holding him in a secure grip.

Carlton watched the snow for long minutes, shivering, not from cold. It wasn't the cold he was afraid of, exactly. It was being trapped in it. Cold could burn, piercing through him, freezing, slowly wearing him down, taking more and more away, and being unable to escape. He needed air. He needed to get out, rare claustrophobia that never affected him anywhere else except when he got stuck in the negative spiral of fearful thought.

"Snow, huh?"

"Frostbite. Hypothermia. Freezing to death, nothing to fight against it, stuck, no escape and just suffering longer and longer and _burning_ with cold... It's more than snow."

"Oh, Carlton," Shawn murmured, resting his head against the back of his neck, breath warm, lips dragging gently over his skin. "I won't let you freeze."

He turned, getting a good look at a sight that he had begun missing lately. Shawn in the morning, expression sleepy but alive, hair messed up even more than usual. Shawn smiled widely, and the moment Carlton let himself smile back, turned more, ready to ask how, exactly, he intended to do that, he heard Yang's voice in his head, playful, teasing.

_"In the night, he might be yours, but in the daytime, Carlton, you mustn't forget that he's all mine."_

Shawn's eyes were unseeing, mouth open, expression pained as the last of his life faded.

Carlton thrashed away, entangled in the quilt as he slammed into his suitcase. It fell to the floor with a loud thud as he followed, gasping in pain as he landed awkwardly on the suitcase and the floor before he managed to stumble to his feet, eyes wide and breathing heavy as he looked at Shawn again.

Shawn was sitting up, still clothed from yesterday, watching him with concern. "Carlton?"

His hand trembled, clasped over his mouth, relief and terror and a realization that he had just shown his entire hand to Shawn when he'd been doing his best to keep it under wraps. They didn't need to be concerned about him. He would be fine. It was just a- a-

Carlton realized the truth as Shawn stared at him, as his own side hurt as he breathed in, as he looked outside and realized he wasn't sure which terrified him more, the phobia he'd had since childhood or the gunshot and images he kept seeing in his dreams and now in reality.

It was a problem.

"Carlton," Shawn said again, more firmly as he stood up and walked around the bed to him. Carlton stood still, feeling himself flush in embarrassment as Shawn helped him untangle from the quilt, putting it gently back on the bed before looking at him again. "Dude, what's going on with you?"

"It's nothing."

Shawn raised his eyebrows before lowering them, pursing his lips. "Your shoulders are drawn in, hands fidgeting just a little like you're trying not to cross them. You know that's a defensive position, and you know I'll read it like that. You've been different since that last night in New York, and while I can probably guess or find out why, I'm more concerned about you. Whatever happened involved you somehow. You're taking it personally and keeping it bottled up and away from me. Pretty sure you've told Jules. Or Jules at least knows something. It's not 'nothing', Carlton." He reached out, placed a hand on his arm. "Talk to me."

Carlton flinched away from his touch, the image from before still seared into his mind. He shook his head. How could he explain that he'd given the order for another man to die? How could he explain that it had been punishment for sticking his nose into places it didn't belong? How did he explain that he heard Shawn's mother crying because of Carlton's selfishness?

"I can't."

"You can," Shawn said gently. "We're in this together, right? No secrets. Secrets get us killed."

"Being attached gets us killed," he said, too coldly, wincing when he saw visible hurt in Shawn's expression.

"No," Shawn insisted, stepping back, limping. He always limped in the mornings. "You caring about me saved my life. And me caring about you saved yours, right? In Miami. If I hadn't come in there, told you, then maybe everything would have gone horribly wrong. Well. Wronger than they did." He shook his head before looking up at him, eyes desperately searching. "I thought you were glad you weren't alone?"

"I am," Carlton said, his voice gentle though he made no move to offer physical comfort. "But what happened... Shawn, I can't."

"Why?" His expression turned sharper, intense, searching for the weak link in his armor so he could try and break through it again and again. "Just tell me." The first notes of petulance made Carlton frown even deeper. Shawn was still a kid. Still innocent in his own ways and definitely childish.

Carlton just shook his head, swallowing dryly and hoping that Shawn would somehow let the subject drop.

Shawn's expression softened, and he sank down on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, he patted the bed beside him, reassuring. Carlton might've gone to him, might've talked – he hadn't made up his mind when there was a rapid knocking at the door. "Breakfast!" Juliet called before scampering back down the hall.

Shawn looked up at him, eye round, pleading, but Carlton shook his head. "We should go eat. Come on."

Shawn sighed and stood, darting to him and looping his arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. "Raincheck, Carlton. But know that I'm here for you, okay? Always."

Carlton gave in to the impulse to hug him back, holding him gently in his arms for just a moment. He rested his head on Shawn's, breathing out quietly, "I know." He gave himself another moment or two, not quite ready to let go yet.

\-----

There was something nice about this. All four of them curled up in the living room. Despereaux and Shawn had taken over the couch, one of them reading a plain book with a blue cover while the other laid with his head on Despereaux's leg and a pillow sitting on top of it as he watched the small television set that flickered with an old 80s movie he'd grabbed on VHS in town.

Carlton himself wasn't paying attention. He was mostly focused on his crossword puzzle, occasionally looking up to see Despereaux's free hand falling to Shawn's hair, rubbing at his scalp and making his eyelashes flutter and his smile widen. Juliet was sitting in the other chair near him, eyes wide as she read one of the comics Shawn had bought her.

The crossword wasn't great at holding his attention, but it wasn't the worst either. It was... dull. Normal. Boring. 

Carlton thought he could use at least a few days of boredom before things picked back up again.


	19. Chapter 19

Shawn woke comfortably wrapped in the wrong embrace. He knew it was wrong, knew that the grip was too lax, the body he rested against too soft, and the hands curled against him gentle instead of callused. It was the wrong place to be, but he had become used to it. He shifted back in the bed, pressed his body against Pierre's, smiling wide when Pierre's arm curled tighter around him and pulled him close.

After the first night in the cabin, he had crawled into Pierre's bed. It wasn't his preferred sleeping arrangement, but Carlton had needed his space, had all but said it explicitly, and Shawn was willing to give him what little the cabin could afford. They still spent the bulk of their time together, but sometimes Carlton would vanish into his room, and Shawn knew to leave him alone. This sleeping arrangement was better for all of them, really, for a variety of reasons.

Another shift in position, and Shawn's smile widened further, a natural reaction by this point to the feel of Pierre's erection pressing hard into the back of his thigh. "Pierre," he murmured in a a stage whisper, too loud for their guide to keep sleeping after years of fearing that every bump in the night might bring the worst.

"Good morning," he murmured gently. Softly accusing, he asked, "And is there a reason you've decided to wake me up this early? " Shawn could practically see the slight twist of his frown, considering, "Why are you awake?"

"Just woke up," Shawn assured him. He stretched, arching into Pierre. "Nothing bad, I promise."

"So you woke me."

"I don't really think you mind being woken up." He turned himself slowly in Pierre's grip, twisting until he could throw a leg over him, pushing him onto his back as he straddled him. Shawn reached up with a hand and threw the blanket and sheet away, leaving him alone with Pierre beneath him. The older man's lips twitched upward, a faint smile before his hands were on Shawn, turning them with surprising swiftness and pressing him into the mattress.

"You may be right," he murmured before he kissed his jaw, his body blanketing Shawn's, secure and safe and too comfortable for him to be concerned with much else. Pierre, on the other hand, blinked towards the sunlight coming in through the windows, and with a slight huff, he pulled away.

"Pierre," Shawn said, hand on his arm, tempted to drag him back on top of him.

Pierre turned, his other hand cupping the back of Shawn's neck as he pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, giving Shawn the chance to indulge in the movement of their lips, the brief, electric thrill of their tongues touching before Pierre was pulling away, reaching for his pajamas and pulling them on. "Not while the sun is up, Shawn. We can't afford to be distracted."

Shawn nervously looked towards the drawn blinds, easily imagining Yin and Yang beyond them, waiting. He shivered and began searching for his own clothes, eager to give himself any protection or readiness in case of the worst. He staggered trying to put on his pants, and was steadied only when Pierre's hand reached out, clamped on his shoulder, keeping him on his foot until both could be planted solidly on the ground again.

He gave him a shaky, grateful smile before waving his hand towards the door, "Go on."

"Are you-?"

Shawn forced his head up, smile growing wider, "Yeah, totally fine. Just need a minute." Cheerily, he added, "Go make me some bacon." He slapped Pierre's ass, earning him a stern grip on his arm, yanking him close enough for another soft kiss to land on his lips. Before he knew it, the door closed, and Shawn sank to sit on the floor, his back against the wall where he was safe from the view of the window.

\------

He heard the crackle of the radio, static loud over a voice. Shawn paused in the doorway to the main room, looking between Juliet and Pierre crowded around the radio and Carlton who was sprawled out on the couch, his arm thrown over his eyes. Shawn almost hesitated going to him, but it wasn't long before he was hanging over the back of the couch, his hand shaking Carlton's elbow gently.

Carlton peeked out from under the shadow over his eyes, and Shawn noticed how pale he looked, even worse than usual, as bad as the snow outside. It was only then that he realized the words he'd been filtering out from the radio nearby.

Blizzard.

Make preparations.

Snowed in.

Shawn bit back a variety of meaningless platitudes and kind words and settled for patting Carlton's elbow. He understood the phobia of the snow about as well as anyone could. Pierre had teased him about seeing a raccoon nosing around the outdoors, looking for scraps or other edible garbage they might have thrown out. But even so, he knew he was safe inside. They had a healthy stack of firewood, so there was no real threat of the heat going out, but Carlton eyed it day after day, waiting for the worst. Shawn didn't have to ask to know that Carlton would have preferred the alternative, would take the opportunity now in a heartbeat. He might've even suggested it himself if he were less afraid of appearing weak.

But even knowing what his friend would have preferred, Shawn couldn't offer it. Couldn't risk running out of their hidey-hole into the line of fire. And Carlton wouldn't take off on his own, wouldn't leave Shawn. Or at least he didn't think so. He wouldn't at least for several weeks, not until the snow cleared out. If nothing else, the blizzard would keep him pinned, and Shawn was, ashamedly, a little grateful to Mother Nature for looking out for him.

"We're going to take the Jeep into town one last time before the storm comes through," Pierre announced, the keys jingling into his palm. "I suggest we all go and stretch our legs."

Shawn knew what was coming before Carlton even spoke, his shoulders slumping as he braced against the inevitable. "I'll stay."

"Carlton-"

"It makes no sense for all of us to go." Shawn turned to look at him; Carlton was sitting up, eyes narrowed, sneering at Pierre. "In fact, we're better off if more people stay here. Safer."

Pierre breathed out calmly, shrugging. "I was merely suggesting that we might all benefit from getting out of here for a few hours before we became trapped for however long. You are allowed to stay here if you wish."

"I'll stay with him," Juliet volunteered.

"Don't let his sour mood ruin the day for you," Pierre snipped.

Shawn heard Carlton shift on the couch, and he stepped quickly between them. "Come on. Pierre, if we get going, we can get back before dark and hopefully before the storm. Jules, Carlton," he glanced at the older man, an eyebrow raised, wondering if he would be willing to listen, to make peace for the time being, "they can stay here and hold down the fort, if they don't mind. Besides," he turned his gaze back to Pierre, biting his lip for a moment to create an appearance of nerves, "if we should get split up for some reason, it'd be best for all of us to have someone else, right?"

The silence was long, Pierre's eyes narrowed before he slowly nodded. Juliet piped up, "He's right, you know. It'd be best for us to be split into groups of twos than into a three and one."

Pierre nodded again and turned his attention to Shawn, "Come along then, Shawn. We'd best be off." He aimed a level glare at Carlton again before saying firmly, "Should something happen, you had best stick together, find someplace safe, and wait for Lightly to contact you. Do you understand?"

Shawn gave a wide grin and was about to shoot off an optimistic tease before he saw the look on Juliet's face. She could look so old sometimes, like the weight of the world was pressing down on he shoulders, threatening to make her buckle and succumb. He quieted without saying anything, offered her a gentle smile just to see her eyes momentarily linger on him, her own smile brief before she looked again to Pierre. "Understood. We'll find you."

Pierre smirked, his relief allowing for amusement, "Oh, I doubt that. Entire point of the game."

Shawn glanced at Carlton, feeling a rush of relief when the older man's eyes met his. Carlton nodded just enough for Shawn to see, and he nodded in return. Even if they were separated, they'd find each other. It seemed to be the way things worked for them anyway. No need to complicate the way things were meant to be.

That thought made his chest clench, and he felt incredibly lucky that Pierre tapped his shoulder, reminding him. Shawn gratefully followed him out to the Jeep. They'd made only one other trip to Millinocket, and Shawn found the ride to be comfortable even though it was worrying. Being out in the daylight made him jumpy now, eyes and attention constantly on the move, looking for even a hint of danger.

He buckled the seatbelt as Pierre started the engine, and he breathed out shakily, thinking for certain that he knew his mission, that it had to be completed, for better or worse. Shawn shot a smile over at Pierre. "Where all are we going in town?"

"General store, grocer's."

"Used book store," he supplied.

"How many books could you possibly need?"

"Well, we're gonna be stuck in the cabin for no one knows how long, and I'd rather be prepared."

"Could you, for my sake, at least pick a piece of proper literature? I could recommend some wonderful Tennyson. 'Ulysses' for example-"

"Pierre." Shawn leaned over in the seat and kisses his cheek. "I promise you can corrupt me with 'proper literature' once I know I'm safe, all right?"

"But when you're safe, where on earth does that leave me?"

Shawn settled back as the engine turned over, thrusting his hands next to the vents to feel the first stirrings of heat against his fingers. "Around. I mean, I figured you would be."

"Shawn," Pierre attempted, but Shawn laughed, looking pointedly out the window.

"It doesn't matter, right? Live literally like every day will be my last. No regrets, no strings. Perfect." He shivered, both at the cold and at the terrifying prospect that continued to haunt him no matter how he pretended otherwise. "I know this... whatever you want to call it. Affair, fuckbuddies, whatever."

"Tryst."

"Fine, tryst." Shawn stared resolutely at the snow, at the cabin as they began to back away from it, the tires crunching over the thin layer of snow that seemed to have remained mostly the same level since the weather really began. "I know it's not happily ever after or true love or something stupid like that. I mean, you're my- my first." His ears felt hot with embarrassment at admitting it aloud, "The first person I've been in any sort of a more-than-one-time relationship with. But I'm not going to fall all over myself thinking you're going to mean something more than what we've got. It's fun, and it's fine, and it's either going to end with one or both of us dead or you're going to run off chasing the next sorry sucker that needs help while I try to figure out how to stop running."

Softly, Pierre's voice came, "You've never had a boyfriend before."

"I still haven't," Shawn pointed out easily. "We just fool around."

"Whether or not it's anything lasting, that doesn't mean it can't be important." Pierre pulled off to the side of the road and parked. His hand touched Shawn's chin, turned his head enough to press a heavy, firm kiss to his lips. Shawn melted into it, his resolve crumbling easily under Pierre's assurance and comfort. "I'd be honored to be your first romantic relationship, Shawn. If you wanted me to be."

Shawn shifted slightly, leaned into his touch, brushed his forehead against Pierre's. "I'll think about it. Okay?"

"All right," he said gently and pulled himself away, hands going to the wheel as he put the Jeep into drive and began pushing her back down the country road again.

\-----

Shawn demanded that he pay himself, pulling the credit card out of his wallet. Pierre caught sight of it and narrowed, "Why are you-?"

"Because I want to," he insisted, turning back towards the pretty cashier who was ringing him up the rest of his personal stack of snacks. She handed him a receipt and he confidently signed, his attention still honed in on Pierre, hoping he wouldn't step in and interfere.

"Thank you, Mr. Guster," she said as she handed the card back to him along with his copy of the receipt.

"Sure thing." He winked at her, grabbed his bag, and waited for Pierre to pay for what he'd bought too.

On their way out of the store, he hissed, "You know, using a stolen credit card is risky at the best of times, and as you may remember, this isn't quite a good time in the least."

"I know," Shawn said. "Believe me, I get it."

"Then why won't you let me-?"

"Because I don't want to," he answered flippantly, turning to head towards the Jeep when sudden agony lanced up his leg. His first instinct was to look for the sun, growling out, "Fuck," when he saw that the sun was still above the horizon though rapidly sinking down. He gritted his teeth as he fell to his bad leg, clutching it and listening for the sounds of gunfire and hoping just a little bit that, if it was coming, that it would be quick and done with before he knew what hit him.

Instead, what he felt was a hand hooking under his arm and a gentle grip hauling him to his feet. Shawn hissed in pain and almost drew away before stumbling, clinging instead to the solid body that had tried to help him. "Pierre?" Shawn guessed from the smell of his soap and the familiar, guiding gentleness that made him instinctively feel safe.

"Are you hurt?"

"My leg," he said, clinging with one hand, his other holding his bag from the store. He looked down at the ground, expecting to see red, his blood staining the pristine white, new-fallen snow. What he saw instead was some gray-brown slush topped with flecks of white. His eyes narrow as he kicked his leg out, testing its limits only to cry out at the renewed pain.

"Storm's rolling in," Pierre guessed. "It'll probably pass when the worst of the blizzard does."

"Fantastic," Shawn said, gritting his teeth and trying to find his way through the deep ache that was so unlike anything he'd ever experienced. "I'm 18 years old, and I've got a war wound."

"Could be worse," Pierre assured him grimly. "Come on, we'll get to the cabin."

The ride home was steeped in an awkward silence, Shawn hissing or groaning whenever the rough roads jostled his leg, and Pierre was clearly preoccupied. Shawn watched as the snowfall became steadily heavier, hoping that Juliet was at least distracting Carlton if nothing else.

\-----

Shawn could hear people speaking the moment they entered the cabin. He set his bag to the side and limped quickly into the adjacent kitchen, less surprised than he should have been at Juliet sitting on the counter while Carlton stood nearby with crossed arms, scowling deeply. "They're here," he said, and Shawn stiffened, eyes going wide before, mercifully, Lightly's voice crackled over the speakerphone.

"As I said previously, I need to speak to Pierre."

"And like I said, anything you've got to say to him, you can say in front of all of us."

"Am I perhaps missing something?" The three of them looked up as Pierre entered the kitchen, placing his heavy bags on a counter on the far side of the kitchen from the others. "Lightly, you didn't think to call before?"

Lightly gave a quiet laugh, brief and insincere, before he said, "I'm afraid this isn't a social call. I have very important information for your ears alone, Pierre. However, Carlton seems to have decided that now is the most opportune time to become stubborn."

Shawn was about to voice his own agreement, but Juliet was first. "And I'm with him on this. Can't you just tell us? We're all... we're a part of this, most of us are in danger all the time. We can't have secrets. Carlton's right." She looked at Pierre, less innocent-eyed than the initial look might have led outsiders to believe. It had an edge to it, a warning. His going against her now would seem to be a terrible betrayal.

Pierre saw it as well. He looked to Shawn, lifting an eyebrow to see if he had anything to say about it, but Shawn simply backed up with a heavy limp until he stood with Carlton and Juliet. He lifted his chin and waited. Pierre, whose face hadn't changed from his everyday, passive patience, held Shawn's eyes with his own as he said. "Go ahead, Lightly."

After a moment of heavy hesitation, Lightly's voice crackled again, "Nadia's entered the game."

Pierre grimaced, his expression hardening more than Shawn had ever seen it before. The gentle nature and patience were gone, replaced, momentarily, by the person Shawn had known was lurking beneath the surface. This was the Pierre that had run for his life, fought, and won at a terrible price.

Shawn took a clumsy step closer to Carlton. Just to be safe. Even in this setting that was beginning to feel somewhat comfortable, Carlton almost always wore his holster. His own, the gun and holster he'd been given in Miami, were currently sitting on top of his luggage, curled up, far away, and useless.

"I see," Pierre said stiffly, drawing himself up to his full height and straightening his clothes. Shawn knew what that meant – playtime was over. "What information do you have?"

"She landed on the continent today, and she's already heading north. I believe Yin and Yang have told her where you were headed."

"How are they able to keep up with us?" Carlton growled suddenly. "Every turn we make, every new place we run, they're able to anticipate and follow without giving us enough time to breathe. I mean, I know they're apparently legendarily good at this, but that doesn't account for how good some of their information must have been."

Lightly sounded curious, gentle, detached. "Are you accusing someone of something, Carlton?"

"I'm just saying it's damn suspicious. We didn't have them this close on our tail before we met up with your contact." He leveled a glare at Pierre, and Shawn swallowed around the thick lump that suddenly lodged in his throat. "The first time either of us heard shots fired was at that Starbucks in Denver. And if they were that desperate to get us, if they didn't have easy access, they could have easily killed you in Dallas. Instead of making a 'deal' which doesn't honestly seem like their method of doing things anyway."

"Forgive me for saying so, but you don't know how these people operate. The fun is in the chase, in manipulation, in making you suffer for as long as possible."

"And yet they shot at you in Denver. They've been making active attempts on our lives for," he paused, considered, and gravely reached a conclusion, all of the time added up in his head, "for months."

"They're opportunists, not stupid," Pierre snapped.

"And I'm telling you that you're wrong. This is being planned. We're being pushed into a corner, we have been the entire time. Yeah, they want us desperate because they're playing with us, but that doesn't mean they aren't trying to go for the throat. Denver, Dallas, Miami, New York; those were all legitimate attempts on our lives, and they didn't start until you waltzed in."

"Carlton," Juliet ventured softly, "we weren't attacked in New York."

Carlton stiffened, and Shawn's eyes darted to him, searching. Juliet was right, but he could remember that night vividly, the way Carlton looked like he'd seen a ghost. Shawn leaned closer, reached out to touch him, but Carlton drew back, his face paler than usual. "You know, she's right," Pierre said, his voice venomous.

"Pierre-" Shawn said, trying to step towards him and crying out at the pain. Carlton's hand closed around his shoulder and kept him still. Kept him safe. Even knowing that was the intent, Shawn wanted to pull away, distance himself from all of this.

"Why don't you tell us what happened in New York, Carlton? If a legitimate attempt on your life was made." The tilt of Pierre's smile was sharp, harsh, hateful. "Juliet is right; secrets are a danger to us all."

"Guys," Shawn said, ducking out of Carlton's hold, standing firmly on his own two feet in spite of the pain throbbing up his leg. "Come on. We're about to be snowed in together for who knows how long." He looked desperately between the two older men. "Don't make me be the voice of reason. I'm not very good at it, and the both of you are." He looked back to Carlton, unsurprised to see that Carlton's angry expression hadn't changed, the haunted, hunted man just as evident as his rage. "Carlton, Pierre."

The ensuing silence was unbearable, but he'd made his case. It was up to the others if they wanted to accept it or not. Juliet ventured softly, "It can't hurt to tell us, can it?" And instantly, Shawn knew it was over. Their delicate camaraderie would never be the same, broken in such a way that it could never truly be mended.

Carlton took a deep breath, his glare not lessening in its intensity until it fell to Shawn. His stomach twisted, and even as he wanted to tell him not to, he needed to hear it, needed to know why Carlton was looking at him with the same sorrow that he'd been looking at his envelope in Miami. "Carlton," he began, but Carlton shook his head, squared his shoulders, and forced himself to speak.

"That night in New York, I found a payphone. I found your mother's phone number, and I talked to her. I didn't tell her details, but I told her that you were safe, that I would keep you safe, and that you couldn't talk to her even though you wanted to." Shawn felt all of the air rush out of his lungs, the winter outside settling inside him and freezing him to the core of his being. He wanted to ask, desperate to know the truth, about how his Mom was as his imagination deliriously concocted ways that contacting her could have gone horribly, horribly wrong. Carlton plowed forward, determined to get the rest of his confession off of his chest, his attention honed in on Shawn, neither of them acknowledging the other three listening in on what should have been a private conversation. "The woman, Yang, she was waiting for me. She knew."

Shawn couldn't bear the slow build, demanding in the relative quiet, the words exploding out of him, "Did they hurt her? I'll- I'll take the Jeep, I have to go-"

"She's fine, Shawn. You didn't break the rules, and, technically, neither did I."

"But that's hardly an infraction they wouldn't punish," Pierre observed coldly.

Carlton lifted his head, his jaw clenched. "She made me choose someone to die. As punishment. To save the others on the street, I had to choose. When it was over, she told me we needed to be gone by dawn."

"'When it was over'," Pierre sneered in disgust. "You murdered someone."

Carlton's eyes stayed on Shawn, even when Shawn couldn't look at him any longer. "I'm aware." It explained so much. His distance, his increased sensitivity to his phobias, the nightmares, and Shawn wanted desperately to forgive him, to sympathize, but knowing that it could have been his mother on the other end of the gun because of Carlton's uncharacteristic recklessness made him feel sick.

Lightly's voice spoke again, the speaker sounding so loud in the silence, even over the blood rushing in Shawn's ears. "Pierre. Show them. It's time they know. I'll call again tomorrow. I feel that this... situation needs to be carefully and closely monitored." The phone clicked as Lightly hung up.

"Show us?" Shawn demanded weakly, crossing his arms to make himself feel safe, grounded.

"Carlton," Pierre said, his voice even, neutral, masking his anger. "In light of recent events, would you mind fetching me your envelope?" Carlton seemed as if he might protest, but he gave a brief nod and disappeared down the hallway.

Juliet hopped off the counter and made her way to Shawn's side, peering up at him cautiously. "Shawn?"

Shawn forced a smile, "What a day, huh?"

She looked concerned, biting her lip and holding something back. Finally, she settled on, "You're limping pretty bad."

"My big manly scar's hurting because of the storm. Just so you know, don't ever let a Frenchman dig a bullet out of you with a knife. It may sound pretty badass, but it's really not worth the pain."

"Noted," Juliet said gravely.

"We didn't have another option," Pierre pointed out stiffly.

"I know. But she might. You know, someday. When we can actually be a part of civilization again. Or maybe we can kidnap a doctor or something to keep with us," he grinned sharply. Juliet's eyes narrowed, her mouth twisting into a frown, but before she could retort, he heard Carlton's footsteps hesitating down the hall.

"Here."

The manila envelope was familiar, unwelcome, making him recoil at the sight of it. The scrawl of marker was different from his own, loopy writing that had the same message. He doubted the contents differed much – a similar if not identical set of rules, all of the pictures of his loved ones. He hesitated to hand it over to Pierre before he finally did. He unfastened the top and, without asking, slid the contents out onto the counter. "Come here. All of you." Shawn limped painfully to his side, watching as the others crowded in around Pierre as well. Carlton and Pierre scowled at each other before Pierre looked down at the envelope held delicately between his hands.

Slowly, he lifted it up, held it at an angle to the overhead light. Shawn blinked, his eyes honing in. Because amongst the lines of the paper, the texture that was consistent throughout, there were darker lines, a web of connected lines that accumulated in the middle. "You want to know how they keep up with you? Track you? How about you start with these, the things you were explicitly told to keep with you. Ingrained wires, decades of programming and inventing, tweaking, all to make your lives even harder to hold onto when you're running from your killers."

Shawn was the first to break the silence, nervously laughing, "At least yours doesn't have a tracer on you."

"Of course she does," he said, lowering his arm and handing the envelope to Carlton. "All she needs to do is follow the signal from yours." He pushed himself away from the group. "Even if I wanted to leave, look at that." Shawn did. Outside the window, the world was bleak and gray, broken up only by the fall of heavy snow. His leg throbbed, unsympathetic to the despair that chilled his being to the fore.

"You could still take the Jeep," Juliet pointed out, her trust wavering in the face of everything they had come up against since Shawn and Pierre had walked in.

Pierre's smile didn't reach his eyes. The keys were in his hand in an instant and then flying in a glittering arc to Juliet's hands. Her fingers curled around them automatically. "I won't be abandoning you. I do so solemnly swear." He held his hand up while his right one touched over his heart, as good an oath as they could do under the circumstances. "However, I think it may be for the best if I retire for my room for the night. Good evening." With a nod, he turned and vanished down the hallway, leaving the three of them alone.

Shawn glanced at Carlton, swallowing nervously when his friend wouldn't meet his eyes. "Carlton."

"She said that she loves you," Carlton supplied as if that were all Shawn wanted from him. Carlton slunk off himself, leaving Shawn and Juliet alone as the second door for the evening slammed in its frame.

"Well, Jules, looks like it's you and me."

"Yeah," she said awkwardly, shuffling Carlton's papers into the hated envelope and sealing it shut again before setting it to the side. "Are you-? Well, I mean, are you gonna be-"

"I'm fine," he assured her with a quick pat on her shoulder. "I think I saw Connect Four in the hall closet when we first moved in. Let me go grab it."

"Shawn, there's a perfectly good chess set out here."

"Not to be cocky, but I will actually destroy you in chess."

Juliet's lips twitched into a faint smile, "Is that so? Come on, I used to be able to beat the guy who beat the system. I'm unstoppable."

"We'll see about that."

They were alone for the remainder of the night. The wind howled, and the cabin creaked, and in the latest hours, after a monster yawn made her jaw pop, Shawn sent Juliet to bed. He curled up on the couch alone in the dark, listening to the blizzard and shivering when the fire in the fireplace became too low to keep him warm.

He woke once in the night to the feeling of a heavy blanket being wrapped around him, the envelope resting on one of the armrests until the perpetrator picked it up and sneaked off back into the dark of the cabin.


	20. Chapter 20

The snow rose like a flood, blocking the door, closing in, pressing until he felt like he couldn't breathe. Even with the shades pulled on the windows in his room, he was aware of it falling, every flake damning him to the inevitable dark and consuming cold. Carlton shivered just thinking about it. Frostbite nipping at his fingers and toes, shriveling them up as his blood began to circulate conservatively. The slow sleep of hypothermia, pulling him under, into the depths from which there were no escape.

Trapped wasn't his favorite feeling. Trapped knowing that his pursuers could pinpoint his exact location was even less inviting. Add Pierre and Shawn to the already stressful circumstances and he was desperate to escape. He couldn't stand to see either of them, self-righteous anger and overbearing guilt weighing him down just as much as the development with the envelopes.

He turned the worries over in his head, focused on everything, honed in and running around in circles and finding no escape or solution. "Carlton," Juliet's voice came from the door, startling him out of his thoughts. "You need to come eat something."

His stomach turned at the thought. Food needed to be kept. Going without now could save his life later even if it made him weaker, less able to think, less patient. He'd be fine. He- he was rambling out loud.

Juliet smiled sympathetically. "It's been two days. You realize that, right?"

"I can take more."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows, a skeptical look on her face. "But should you?" Carlton took too long to answer, and she nodded, "That's what I thought. Come on." She gestured towards the doorway. "The others won't bug you. I promise."

He raised an eyebrow of his own. "Oh, really."

Juliet smiled brightly, and Carlton found himself returning her smile. The idea of youngest Juliet bossing the other two into not antagonizing him was at once grating – he didn't need the protection of a child – and yet oddly endearing. Like most things about her. "I got your back."

Sincerely, he said, "I know."

He emerged to find the other two lounging on the couch, eyes on the TV where an old black-and-white VHS played on. Shawn turned enough to look at him, raising his hand in greeting with a small smile before he leaned back into Despereaux. Carlton paused, unsure of how to read Shawn's limited reaction to his presence, but Juliet patted his arm, and he followed her into the kitchen, grabbed some food, and began to take it back to his room.

"You don't have to take that away," Shawn offered gently, his voice causing Carlton to jump and look up. Shawn stood nearby, rubbing idly at his arm, not smiling. "Stay and eat."

"Shawn," Juliet insisted, "you promised."

Carlton leveled his gaze at him, "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Shawn shrugged. "Yeah? I mean, we're gonna be stuck in here for however long. There's no sense in making it worse than it's already gonna be." His eyes fell to the ground, eyebrows lowered as he concentrated. "It'll be fine."

Carlton approached the subject as carefully as he could, "Shawn, I'm so sorry-"

He held up a hand, expression winding up into a tight smile. "Don't. Just don't."

"I know sorry doesn't even begin to cover it, Spencer."

"It's not that!" He stepped forward, "Man, my mom could have died. Or, you know, you could have. Someone else _did_. Yeah, 'sorry' doesn't even come close to being good enough, but it doesn't matter right now. We have to get through this snow, we have to deal with Yin and Yang. We have to be able to trust each other, so no more stupid heroics, and no more secrets. Deal?"

Carlton considered, eyes narrowed as if he could see Shawn's continuing disappointment with him, but all he saw was determination, strength that he'd always been surprised the teenager had possessed. "Deal," he agreed. His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, and he grabbed his plate of food, retreating to the back of the kitchen and hopping up on a cabinet to sit and eat.

Shawn smiled at Juliet, none of his usual false optimism shining through the cracks. "See, Jules? We're good."

She crossed her arms, chewing on her lower lip before she finally said, "Fine." She added quickly, "But don't think I won't get you back for lying to me." She took the plate from Carlton as he finished up eating and took it to the sink, rinsing it off. "You feel better?" He nodded reluctantly, avoiding Shawn's eyes.

Shawn picked up on the unspoken problem instantly, the speed of his observation at once astounding and irritating. "Wait, wait, have you not been eating? Like, at all?"

"I haven't really been out and about much," he pointed out, grumbling. Juliet moved between them, but Shawn sidestepped around her, slapping Carlton's knee with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"You're an idiot. What if we needed to run?"

"Lay off," he said, kicking Shawn's side gently with his foot.

Shawn laughed bitterly, "No way! If I'd been that totally stupid, I'd have gotten metaphorically, verbally, and perhaps even physically reamed for it."

"Physically," he repeated, wondering if Shawn even bothered keeping up with his own thoughts sometimes.

Shawn nodded. "With like a chainsaw or something. You would've been super mad. Like I'm super mad right now because come on, you're supposed to be smarter than that!" More seriously, he said, "Carlton. We can't afford to not take care of ourselves, right? We have to be prepared for the worst. So no slacking off on eating, or I'll sit on your chest and spoon-feed you applesauce like you've been a very naughty toddler."

Carlton wheedled at him just because he could, "Please tell me you never babysat."

"The children of Santa Barbara were sadly out of my realm of influence."

"Thank god."

"Guys," Juliet cut in, tucking her hair behind her ear as she called both of their attentions. "If I'm not going to need to babysit you myself, I'm gonna go see what Pierre's up to. But please promise me that I'm not gonna have to come back in here to break up some stupid fight."

"Stupid fight?" Shawn asked, his hand on his chest as if he'd been physically wounded by her insinuation. "Why, we'd never." Carlton nudged him in the side again, and Shawn swatted his foot away, turning enough to glare at him before turning to face Juliet again.

"Just behave," she said again, more firmly, and Carlton was aware that they were both meekly nodding as if this young girl had all the authority over them as their own mothers. He couldn't help but remember Madeline's voice, the worry and anger she'd had that someone might be fucking with her or her son.

As Juliet vanished out of the kitchen, Carlton felt tension wind up his spine. Shawn straightened himself, his back and shoulders stiffer than their usual loose, easy-going sway. "That was really incredibly stupid. I don't feel I can emphasize it enough."

Carlton realized he wasn't sure which incident Shawn was talking about. The severity seemed out of place for Carlton skipping a few meals, but there hadn't been anything between them that should have segued into the topic he'd desperately wanted to avoid ever since his confession. "We all make mistakes," he said as calmly as he could manage, hopping down from the counter.

Shawn's eyes narrowed and he sidled in close, the claustrophobia setting in instantly as Carlton was reminded of how little space there was, not even enough to breathe. Panic was becoming too familiar over the last few days, and Shawn's hand touching his cheek was barely enough to calm him. "Hey, stay with me, Carlton. It was stupid, but that doesn't mean I'm going to, like, not talk to you anymore or hate you or anything."

Carlton demanded softly, "You should."

Shawn gave him a sad smile, "No. That's my call, not yours. And I mean, I'm really pissed off for a lot of reasons, but I know what could happen when that sun comes up tomorrow, and I shouldn't- I don't _want_ to spend my last night angry at my friend."

"Still living in the heat of the moment?"

Shawn's smile widened slightly though it had none of its usual brightness. "Yeah. Don't really have much of an option, right? I mean, they know exactly where they are, and Pierre won't even talk about Nadia which can't be good. Chances are, we're going to die hiding out in this cabin, or be forced to run through the blizzard and-" He caught Carlton's shiver and frowned, pulling his hand back. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said dryly. "I deserved that."

"No," Shawn said heatedly. "You don't. You made a mistake or several and really they all started with pulling me out of that bar, but that doesn't mean you deserve to be tormented especially when you could have left me out there to die. Could have killed me yourself and been done with it. I mean, I think about that night all the time, and there were so many things that you could have done, and instead you told me to get in the car." 

"Picking you up wasn't a mistake."

Shawn scoffed. "Of course it was. This entire thing's been a mistake, up to and including the fact that we don't know what the hell we're doing with each other, and it's probably a worse distraction than the fact that we're being chased around in the first place. Pierre was right – he said it a long time ago, we're a threat to each other, and we're not going to stop."

"Then let's stop," Carlton suggested, his hands on his hips.

"I'd love to, really, I would, but at the same time, I don't think I'm ever gonna let you out of my sight again."

"Because I'll do something stupid?"

Shawn groaned in frustration, "If you don't stop being self-depreciating in like two seconds, I'm going to make you regret it."

"See, I can't even apologize like-"

Shawn's hands pulled him down to a more manageable level, kissing him heatedly, his fingers combing into Carlton's hair and pulling him close. Carlton was helpless not to respond, his hands flying to the lithe body in front of him, one hand settling on Shawn's waist while the other formed a fist in his shirt, yanking him closer until it felt like they were touching in almost every possible way.

Shawn nipped at his lips, snarling, "Fuck your apologies, Lassie."

Carlton turned them and helped lift Shawn onto the counter, still moving his lips hungrily against the teenager's, reluctantly letting go of his shirt to slide a hand up his warm skin. "This," he began, interrupted by Shawn's tongue plunging into his mouth, momentarily occupying him until he pulled away, pressing his mouth to Shawn's jaw instead. "This is such a bad idea."

"I don't want to stop," Shawn confessed. Carlton flushed and knew he should, knew he should be the voice of reason, knew he needed to be the _adult_. "Don't," Shawn pleaded, licking into his mouth, his hands scrambling at the buttons on Carlton's shirt. "Don't. I can't handle it anymore, I swear to god. I'll make you suffer if you try and act like this isn't exactly what we should be doing."

His hand spread wide and feeling the planes of Shawn's back shift with every movement of muscle as he arched forward into Carlton. One of his legs came up and hooked around Carlton's waist, pulling him closer, until Carlton could feel where Shawn was hard in his jeans and he was certain Shawn could feel the gun in his holster. "And what's he going to say about this?"

Shawn snorted, bit at his lower lip, scraping his teeth harshly across it, "Last night of my life, Carlton."

"Our lives," he corrected.

"Right," Shawn agreed. "Last night of our lives, why shouldn't we have this one simple, easy fucking thing."

"It's not going to be-"

Shawn's fingers curled against the back of his neck, his words cutting off into a low groan, his body fizzing with sensation down his spine. "I don't care," Shawn said, cupping his face with his other hand, meeting his eyes. His eyebrows were lowered, angered concentration as he demanded, "Do you?"

Carlton had objections. He was fairly sure he did, but then Shawn executed an absolutely sinful roll of his hips, and his head fell back slightly with a small moan. He thought of the cold, the inevitable freeze creeping closer and closer to tear him apart piece by piece and choke him, finally, to death.

Shawn, on the other hand, was warm, hot, like the fire in the living room, warming him through to his core, promising more with his presence than he'd managed to at all in their conversations. "No," he said, "I don't."

Shawn didn't bother to respond, just went back to kissing him, to rolling against him, to tearing at the buttons on his shirt, clawing at the fabric and trying to make it vanish. Carlton felt the holster slide off his shoulders, landing in the crooks of his elbows as he continued touching Shawn, hands exploring the warm length of his torso.

They were startled by the sound of a door slamming loudly, and Carlton pulled reluctantly away, looking out at the darkened living room. "I don't think we were being subtle." He stepped farther away to look, to see that it had been abandoned.

Shawn's arm looped with his, tugging him towards the couch. "Good. Subtle was the last thing I was going for."

He dragged him to the couch, eye glittering in the dark as he pushed him down, straddled him, mouth sucking a hickey onto his neck as Carlton pulled the hem of Shawn's shirt up. They both took a breath, ripping at their shirts and Carlton's holster, leaving them in a pile by the couch as Shawn took to rolling his hips over Carlton's, miming riding him through their remaining clothes. He threw his head back and hissed between his teeth, the firelight playing across his skin, flickers of orange and dark shadows as Carlton pulled himself up, pulling a knee up to steady both himself and Shawn as he attacked one of his nipples, scraping his teeth down it followed by the warmth of his tongue, suckling until Shawn moaned.

His hands fell to Shawn's fly, working it open slowly, not to tease but to savor, and Shawn had enough of that around the second time Carlton nipped the pec opposite of the one he'd been paying attention to before to see goosebumps rise on his skin and the muscles twitch at the sensation. Shawn pulled himself off and began pushing his pants and underwear down before attacking Carlton's own with that same determination.

He almost didn't realize that Shawn was totally naked in front of him – and vice versa – until Shawn was pushing him down with one hand while the other smoothed down his body, wrapped around his cock, and he allowed himself to look. Carlton found himself staring. Shawn's hair had grown out, but he'd already done a number to it in the kitchen along with the clothes, leaving it ruffled and messy. The kid himself looked soft, like the kind of person Carlton needed to protect, if not for the absolutely sinful lopsided grin he turned up to his end of the couch.

"Fuck, Shawn," he breathed, arching his hips as Shawn took to stroking him leisurely, pulling his hand away long enough to spit before he was back, making slick movements over his cock. Carlton licked his own hand, snaking down to where Shawn's dick twitched against his body as Shawn jerked his hips, rubbed himself against Carlton's body.

Shawn laughed breathlessly, jacking Carlton while holding his eyes with his own, a devilish smirk twisted on his lips as he sped to a pace that made Carlton's skin crawl, body writhe up, attempting to get more friction even as Shawn pushed him down. "That it," he asked idly, holding the maddening tempo. "That good enough? Or do you want more?"

Carlton sneered and retaliated the best way he knew how – he sped his own hand, the angle awkward but the action familiar, until Shawn was wriggling himself, hips jerking forward, breathing coming in tiny gasps. "H-hey. N-not. Not – oh, oh god – not fair." A shiver wracked his spine and he arched, hips pushing up as Carlton stilled his hand, his other going to Shawn's ass, fingers gripping the yielding flesh and pulling him closer as he sat up, ignoring the strain in his back to balance them both.

Shawn's eyes fluttered open to half-heartedly glare, though they closed again a moment later as Carlton pressed his mouth against Shawn's, lips moving slow in comparison to the speed of their hands, tongue sliding against Shawn's, a steady balancing act of breaking apart to breathe and surging forward to kiss him harder, to pull out the soft noises in both of their throats, gasps and moans. Shawn's free hand reached up and clenched around his shoulder, his nails digging into his skin, clawing for grounding as Carlton's pace sped.

He hissed at the scratches that dug into his skin, but his own hands were occupied, one holding Shawn's ass to keep him balanced and the other twisted. Shawn arched, a desperate, raw noise in his throat, close already, and fuck, Carlton wanted to see him come, wanted to pull him close and feel every shake of his body as he succumbed to what Carlton was giving him.

"Ghh- god, oh- oh my god," he panted against Carlton's mouth, his own hand stuttering in its pace. "Fuck, oh, fuck, just. Just a little, come on, come on."

"That's it," Carlton assured him, his own voice a rough growl. "Let me hear it, Shawn." His wrist began to ache but he didn't dare stop, stroking fast and hard as Shawn's head lolled forward, resting against his, breathing hitching, heaving as he thrust forward, desperately.

Shawn babbled, "Fuck, oh shit, oh- oh _fuck_ ," before he tensed and shouted as he came. Carlton stroked it out of him, heedless of streak after streak of ejaculate that spilled over his hand, landed on either of their bodies. His breathing shuddered as the tension left him. Turning his head, he kissed Carlton, licked at his lips, into his mouth, his unoccupied hand scratching over Carlton's shoulder, down to his chest. "God," he murmured, his other hand still going in a smooth rhythm over Carlton's cock.

Carlton's hips jerked up against the rhythm, and Shawn's pushed back in response, hissing at the drag of his own dick over Carlton's skin. "Shawn," he moaned quietly. " _Shawn_."

"Yeah?" He ran his thumb teasingly over the slit, smearing precome around and sending jolts of stimulation down the length of his dick. Shawn chuckled. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Fuck you," he growled.

Shawn laughed. "Maybe next time."

"Next time," Carlton considered, pulling back enough to look at him. Shawn held his eyes and slowed his strokes, teasing with a loose grip, the faintest smirk on his lips. Carlton growled, grabbing Shawn's hand with his own come-covered one, tightening both of their grips, using Shawn's hand to jerk off. "Next time, you're not gonna walk straight for days."

"Promise?" Shawn grinned wide, and Carlton smirked back at him, jerking their hands faster, practically gift-wrapping the knowledge of his preferred speed for Shawn who took advantage of the fact that Carlton's eyes closed to lean forward and kiss him again, heatedly, like he couldn't get enough. Carlton's hand fell away to grip Shawn's thigh, and Shawn's hand continued with the quick pace, driving Carlton out of his head as he crashed over his peak, burying his head in the crook of Shawn's neck and groaning as he came.

He collapsed backward, and Shawn fell with him, laying on top of him without care for the sticky fluids between them. He rested his head on Carlton's shoulder, leaning forward long enough to plant a simple kiss on his neck before relaxing. Asked, "Was it worth it?"

Carlton tried to think, to give a real answer, but his body thrummed with post-orgasmic comfort, and he couldn't bring himself to think about the complications and the reasons they shouldn't do or shouldn't have done. Shawn answered for him, "Because for me, it totally was."

Carlton chuckled, "Same. I guess."

"You _guess_?" Carlton didn't have to open his eyes to see Shawn's pout and accusing glare. He slapped Carlton's chest hard enough for him to feel it, and Carlton grunted. Shawn paid him back by rubbing the skin in gentle circles, soothing the hurt away. "Jerk."

"Brat." Carlton felt Shawn's smile against his skin, and his own broke free itself.

Shawn shifted uncomfortably on top of him and moved, sitting up, straddling him and looking down, meeting his eyes, worried even as Carlton rubbed his leg comfortingly. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Carlton sighed, relieved that it was that simple of a question. "Of course you can." Admitted begrudgingly, "You probably always could've. If you'd just..."

"Pestered you?" Shawn laughed again, leaning over to kiss him again. "Pushover," he decreed before getting comfortable. Carlton decided to indulge them both for a few more moments, enjoying the moment together, simple, easy, uncomplicated. For however long it could be that way.

\-----

He was surprised to find how at ease he felt when he looked out at the snow. The full-blown panic had retreated to a point of concern, a low-simmering worry that could be ignored. That didn't rule him. Carlton breathed out calmly, and it wasn't a forced calm for the first time in too long. He expected an awkward morning after, but Shawn was back to his usual self, and Despereaux had only the normal amount of disdain for him. Only Juliet blushed when she saw him, and Carlton felt his own face heat in return.

They _really_ hadn't been subtle. Or quiet. Or anything remotely close.

Headed through a comfortable – if guarded – afternoon, they all jumped as the phone began to rang. The four of them crowded around the kitchen as Despereaux picked up the phone and put it on speakerphone.

Carlton's blood went cold at the sound of Lightly's voice. The usual calm, measured cadence was strained, demanding with a slight crack. "Shawn, are you there?"

"Yeah?" Shawn was tense, his shoulders drawn up, and Carlton reached out on instinct, his hand squeezing around Shawn's, to comfort him as much as he could manage.

"Shawn," Lightly sounded almost hysterical as he demanded, "What did you do?"

Despereaux, Juliet, and Carlton all looked at him. Shawn's face had a twisted, forced smile as he said, "Uh. Did I? Did I do something wrong?"

"Something wrong?" He laughed, tittered, and Carlton stiffened himself at the desperate sound. "Something _wrong_? Jeopardized the game, your safety, the status quo, your _lives_. I would say you've done something very, very wrong."

Shawn paled. "I didn't do anything. I didn't-"

"Then why," Lightly cut in with another high, reedy laugh, "is Burton flying to Portland to meet up with someone who specializes with driving people through heavy snow?" There was a silence for far too long, and Carlton squeezed his hand. It brought him out of his stunned silence.

Quietly, Shawn said, "He isn't."

"Oh, he is. Believe me, he is. So let me ask you one more time, Shawn – _what did you do_?"


	21. Chapter 21

The last time he'd hugged Gus, he'd memorized. The smell of his specialty soap, the feel of his arms gripping him tightly, the sound of his voice telling him to stay safe and stay out of trouble when it was already too late for that and they both knew it. He'd also lifted Gus's wallet, stealing his best friend's first credit card and palming it to slide in his pocket once they pulled away.

He thought it might be a way of checking in. Of letting Gus know where he'd ended up without abusing a 'free' source of money. Knowing Gus would be the kind of person to receive detailed records of the things bought with his card, Shawn had started buying the books. Knew he would blanch but also know that it was him. An inside joke from the edge of hell. And every time the card wasn't rejected, every time it wasn't invalidated, Shawn knew that Gus was keeping an eye on him. Would stick by him in any capacity he was able to.

Shawn had bought books three times since they'd been staying in Millinocket, unsure of what he was aiming for, but the moment Lightly said it, he knew he'd gotten his wish. And he'd immediately wished he hadn't.

"We aren't going out there in this," Pierre said. Shawn wasn't listening, was already pulling a coat on over his holster. "Shawn," he said, voice cold.

"Then stay." Irrational hurt rose at the idea that they wouldn't stand beside him now. "You, Jules, Carlton; I don't care. I'm going."

"No, you're not," Pierre tried to be intimidating, drawing himself up to his full height, all charm and easygoing personality long gone, replaced by someone who knew what they were doing, someone who was trying to keep Shawn from making a terrible mistake. "Shawn, if you make contact with him, they'll-"

"And what's going to stop them from killing him anyway?" Shawn demanded, his voice rising in pitch. "I might as well have called his house and told him where we were hiding. I broke the rules, and- and-" It was too terrifying to think about, left his mind frozen even though he could see it clearly, replacing Ewan with Gus, his throat open and spilling his life out one agonized heartbeat after another. "It's not going to happen. No way."

He jolted at the hand landing on his shoulder, and he jerked away and turned to see Carlton holding his suitcase and Shawn's duffel bag, his own jacket zipped up to protect him from the cold. "We're going. We'll take our stuff in case we need to run." He lifted his head to look from Pierre to Juliet. "You two can stay here. Wait out the rest of the blizzard and keep your nose out of trouble. I'm sure Lightly can send you a vehicle once the weather lets up."

"Carlton," Pierre said stiffly. "You can't be serious. You know the dangers."

"We both do," he said, hefting both pieces of luggage into a better grip. Shawn reached out and grabbed his own duffel, slinging the strap over his shoulder. He smiled thinly up at Carlton, who met his eyes briefly before turning back to where Pierre blocked the doorway.

"This is a trap to flush Shawn out of hiding."

"You think I don't know that?" Shawn demanded, stepping forward and leveling a glare at Pierre. "I know what this is, but man, you don't get it. It's _Gus_. They could kill him. Or worse. And if they do, because of me, because he's my friend, then the rest of this life isn't worth living, all right? It's just not."

"And what about Ewan?" Shawn turned to look at Juliet, her face kept carefully blank though he could see the tears at the corners of her eyes. "Was he an acceptable sacrifice to you? For you to just- to throw away when you didn't feel like playing it safe anymore?"

Shawn shook his head, opened his mouth to say something before Carlton stepped in. "He's dead, O'Hara. Killing Gus won't bring him back, and letting more innocent lives be lost because of some 'value' system is the wrong way to look at it."

"Says the man who has blood on his hands."

Carlton flinched, but he didn't reply, didn't justify his actions, didn't try to defend himself. Just held his hand out towards Pierre. "The keys, Despereaux."

Pierre glared at him, hand curled in a tight fist around them before he finally put them in Carlton's hand. "Go warm up the Jeep. Juliet, pack up quickly, and let's get out of here."

Shawn's heart did a giddy little leap. "You're coming with us?" For all his talk, he desperately wanted as many people standing behind him as he could get.

"I didn't waste the last few months keeping you two alive and making the sacrifices we've all made for you to run into danger without backup. My job is to protect and guide you, and I intend to see you to the end. Go." Juliet shot a look at him before she and Pierre vanished to grab the essentials and some supplies.

Shawn took one final look around the cabin before walking out into the snow, determined. Carlton was barely more than a step behind him. They popped open the back of the Jeep and began digging out the tires from the snow using shovels in the back, working in relative silence. The cold stung at his lungs, made it hard for him to breathe, but Carlton, with his phobia, was working diligently, and Shawn knew with every determined dig he was getting closer and closer to saving Gus from the fate he'd bought him.

"Thanks," he managed to say when Carlton came around to help him dig his side of the Jeep out. "You didn't have to do that."

"No, I didn't," Carlton agreed easily. "But I wouldn't have been able to live with myself either if I'd let you go after him alone."

Shawn felt a strained smile pull on his lips before Carlton's hand touched his arm, hesitating at the contact. Shawn was as unsure as Carlton was as to where they really stood with each other, but it didn't stop him from touching his gloved fingers to Carlton's feeling warmth through the fabric as the lights in the cabin went black.

"I said to warm the car up."

"You said a lot of things." Carlton said, tossing the keys to Pierre before helping Juliet carry the last of her things from the cabin to the back of the Jeep. They all piled in, rabbits in the back as Pierre got behind the wheel and Juliet hopped into the shotgun seat.

They set off on a long, silent drive, crawling through the heavy snow until they made it to the partially-plowed highway and set off towards Portland. Carlton's hand crept over the seat to squeeze Shawn's. Shawn took the silent support for what it was and fell into his own thoughts.

\-----

They arrived at the airport in Portland hours later, when most people would have already been in bed, and the moment Pierre began to slow the Jeep, Shawn unlocked the door, and he was out in the cold. He feet slipped through the snow, his sneakers cold and wet. "Damnit, Shawn!" Shawn thought he heard Carlton running behind him. He didn't care; whether Carlton was on his heels or not, it wouldn't change the end outcome. He had to get to Gus. He had to protect Gus.

"Shawn!" Carlton nabbed the back of his jacket, pushing him against the window near the doors. "Calm down. His plane doesn't arrive for another hour and that's assuming the weather doesn't delay the brave little airline bringing him here." Shawn pushed against him, tried to push himself away, but Carlton pushed him back again. "Spencer, you walk in there with a gun, and this is going to be an entirely different ballgame."

Shawn blinked, remembering the holster hugging his shoulders. In an instant, he wriggled out of the jacket and out of the holster before pushing them against Carlton's chest. "Take it to the Jeep."

Carlton watched him evenly. "Calm down. I'm not going to let you go in there alone. A few more minutes, we'll go in there together, and we'll watch each other's backs. Don't be stupid. You won't be helping either you or your friend running in there blind and alone."

Shawn's chest heaved, gasping for air in the cold as his eyes narrowed as he glared. Carlton was right, and that was the worst part of it all. Carlton was right, but Gus was going to be landing and Shawn had to get to him before Yin and Yang did. He had to save him at whatever other cost there was. "A few minutes right now won't be the end of the world, Shawn."

"And if it is?" Shawn demanded in a low voice, his breath turning to steam in the air.

"It won't be."

Shawn wriggled uncomfortably against the glass, but it didn't take him long to settle, Carlton's words easing his worries for a few minutes at the very least. He nodded stiffly. "I'll hold you to that."

"I know." Carlton released his grip on him and looked to the almost empty parking lot. "Come on, let's put our stuff up." Shawn nodded and caught up with him within a few steps, grabbing Carlton's hand. Needing the stability he offered now more than ever.

Pierre and Juliet were getting out of the Jeep, both of them watching Shawn with rather cold looks. He forced a bright smile at them and held up his holster. "Almost forgot to leave this in here."

"That would've been unpleasant," Pierre said simply, unlocking the car long enough for Shawn and Carlton to hide their guns beneath the back seat.

"We're coming in with you," Juliet said with enough confidence that she knew she wouldn't be contradicted or told otherwise. "We need as many people watching out as possible, and Pierre and me aren't going to be out here being sitting ducks in the dark."

Shawn caught a tremor in her voice, the way her face hardened at the near mention of everything she had lost. "All right," he said easily, grabbing for Carlton's hand again. "We're going, then." The other three, for the first time since this misadventure in trust and fear began, followed his lead without offering commentary or suggestions. Shawn didn't really like it.

Security was a breeze, as Pierre calmly explained that they were meeting a friend who was arriving on the red-eye bravely through the storm. The guard on duty that early in the morning took a look at all of them, skeptically raising an eyebrow at the motley crew. Pierre's smile didn't waver, and the guard allowed them to go through without being hassled further.

It took Shawn roughly a minute to figure out where Gus's gate was thanks to an available map and the display of flight arrival times. He took off running through the terminal, his leg protesting the strain, but he couldn't even begin to slow down. It wasn't in him, not when every passing moment was a moment longer away from Gus, where Gus might be in danger. He kept glancing out the large windows to make sure time itself wasn't running against him, to make sure the sky was dark and there were no signs of the sun.

Carlton caught up with him as Shawn stood in front of the gate, his hands curled into fists as he bounced impatiently on his feet, hissing through his teeth at the pressure being put on his scar. "Hey, idiot." Shawn snapped his gaze to him. "You're hurting yourself. Sit down."

Shawn glared at him, but Carlton raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Shawn swallowed around the thick lump of worry and fear clogging his throat and nodded. "Watch my back?"

"I don't intend to stop now."

They found a bench not currently occupied by sleeping bodies or half-asleep family members, and Shawn dragged him to it, stretching out himself, his head on Carlton's thigh. He was exhausted, but there was no way in hell he could sleep. Shawn watched his face, the angle not giving him much to read Carlton's expression, but he could see that he was calm, could feel it in the way Carlton's hand didn't jitter or shake when it ran through his hair, in the steady cadence of his breathing. "How can you be so calm all the time?"

"I'm not. If you really think so, you haven't been paying attention."

Shawn closed his eyes, but in the darkness was sleep or nightmares, vivid dreams about what might happen to Gus because of him. What might have already happened. He knew, logically, that their pursuers were probably in the immediate area, planning an attack or waiting for a slip up to finish the job. But they seemed to be everywhere at the same time, always on their heels, omniscient and waiting. They would know, somehow, about the messages he'd been sending Gus. They would know everything. And if they somehow didn't, they'd know as soon as Gus landed. And Shawn might be forfeiting everything, putting his parents' and Gus's lives in jeopardy. "This is so hard," he whined.

"I know."

Shawn resented him for it. Carlton couldn't possibly know. None of his family was on the line, his life from before safely walled off from the horrifying reality they were stuck with. Shawn's life kept bleeding in, invading until the line between them was a blur and everything was up for grabs. "Maybe if I let them take me, they wouldn't do anything to Gus."

The moment the thought left his mouth, he knew it was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, and if he were even half of a hero, it would have been feasible. But he was young, scared, and stupidly, selfishly in some kind of relationship he wanted to play out to the end. "I wouldn't bet on it. They'll collect their debts. It's best not to give them the chance."

Shawn sighed, sulked, not having gotten the reaction he wanted, but Carlton's hand landed on his shoulder not a moment later, fingers heavy as he gave him a small squeeze. "We'll get you and your friend, and we'll get out of here. I'm not gonna say it's going to be fine because we both know that's a lie."

"Thanks," he mumbled. He genuinely meant it, and Carlton must have known from the small pat he got to his shoulder before his arm was stretched over the back of the bench.

There was a too-long silence, discomfort and restlessness driving him to wriggling on the bench to try and get comfortable. Carlton finally spoke, his voice low where he knew only Shawn would hear, "I'm too far in to give up now. The both of us are going to see the end, or I'm going to die trying to make sure that's the outcome we get."

Shawn tilted his head up, breathing out when Carlton looked down at him, a fierce look in his eyes. "Lassie?"

"Yes?"

His heart thudded in his ears, "I don't want us to stop."

"We won't. I don't know if we could even if we wanted to."

Shawn smiled a little at that and settled, watching out the window as planes began to arrive and taxi in to the terminals. He sat up when one seemed to be coming their way, but it kept on driving. His breathing was starting to quicken, and then another hand landed on his shoulder. Pierre leaned close and murmured, "The sun's down. You're safe."

"He's not."

"Correct, but they can't kill you. Keep that in mind."

Carlton's eyes narrowed as he butted into the conversation, and Juliet wasn't far behind on the other side of Pierre. "Don't tell the kid to use himself as a shield."

Pierre met his gaze evenly, "I wasn't telling 'the kid' to do anything of the sort. I was merely reminding Shawn that there are options and stratagems that neither of you might have considered. As is my job."

"Guys," Juliet insisted, pulling Pierre back enough to give them some breathing room. "Listen."

The woman at the desk was announcing that the plane had landed and would arrive in a few minutes. Shawn was heedless of the rest of the conversation or announcement, tensing as he watched, waited, holding his breath until he saw the plane turn into their gate. "Shawn," Carlton touched his shoulder. Shawn nodded and pushed himself to his feet, limping alone to the front of the gate.

The first weary passengers walked by. Shawn saw them, memorized, and then wrote them off, holding his breath until the moment that he saw dark skin, a smooth head, and hardened, determined eyes, the way Gus got before doing stubbornly pushing forward even though it went against his very nature. Shawn stepped closer to the door, and he felt like time slowed to a halt, every heartbeat, every breath a moment that could be the last.

Gus looked up from the doorway, eyebrows lowered in confusion as he asked, "Shawn?"

Shawn's heart raced in his ears, adrenaline rushing through his body as he ran forward, the limp only a mild irritation as he threw his arms around his best friend, enveloping him in a hug. Making sure that regardless of their vantage point, there was no clean shot that wouldn't take him out too. Still, he waited for the sound of a gun, for pain to blossom, for Gus to make a noise of pain, panic, fear.

Instead, Gus's hands dropped his carry-on, and they came up to hug him back, pulling him close and clinging. "I have a hundred questions to ask you."

"I know. I'll answer them, I swear, but we've gotta get out of here." He pulled back enough to look at Gus's face, seeing the distrustful glare angled at him. "Please trust me. We can't fuck around here. I'll explain later, as soon as we get to the car, just-" There was a scream.

A hand closed around his. Pierre pulled him around as Carlton swept in and hefted Gus's bag on his shoulder. He could see the screen behind the counter, and Shawn's world spun. Where arrival and departure times should be listed, there was instead a grainy picture, angled down from a rooftop to an apartment across the street. The glass was shattered, the vase on the table laying broken on the floor. And a body lay lifeless, blood seeping from her form onto the carpet.

"Mom," he whispered, unable to comprehend what he was seeing but knowing, knowing because that was the exact spot where Pierre had taken him to see her. "No. No, this, this can't- this isn't happening."

"It is," Pierre assured him, voice cold. "And you'll lose another if we don't leave right now."

Shawn didn't really remember the five of them running out, the way his leg was agonized with pain. Or how the moment the chill outside hit his lungs that he doubled over, unable to breathe. The panic hit him then. He slipped and fell onto all fours, tears falling from his eyes and landing in the snow. He heard yelling. He didn't care. He could barely breathe, his body feeling heavy and burdened while the world spun around him, out of control and dangerous. It was more than he'd ever been prepared to handle. Henry had never taught him about this, about the danger and the fears that came true and the world resting on your shoulders and making them crack from the pressure.

Arms pulled him up, Carlton's voice in his ear, "I need you to walk."

"I can't breathe," he whispered around the tight clench of his throat.

"Then don't breathe. Walk." He pulled Shawn's arm over his shoulders, taking most of his weight. Shawn moved his feet as much as he could without realizing that he was speeding up his pace until they were awkwardly running. "O'Hara, up front. Despereaux, drive."

"What the hell is going on?"

"Get in the Jeep." Carlton helped him up and piled in behind him. Gus was in the other side, buckled in, and the door closed, and they were pulling away from the airport. Shawn didn't know what to do. His shoulders shook as his eyes aimed downwards, the image called up instantly. "Shawn. Shawn, stay with us."

"My mom is dead," he whispered as the Jeep roared to life and took off over the snow.

"Wait," Gus said, his hand touching Shawn's arm, his voice wavering as his sympathy tears began to well up. "What are you talking about?"

Shawn needed to start from the beginning, to tell Gus everything so he understood, so he could be supportive and helpful, but his words were cut off by a wet sob, the full force of comprehension barreling into him. Carlton's arm went around him and Shawn clung to him, fingers twisted in his clothes. They began explaining things to Gus. Shawn ignored everything except the comforting hold Carlton had on him, free to cry his eyes out, shattering from the pressure that'd been building ever since he'd started to run.

Sometime later, they fell into a silence, and Gus's hand landed on his arm, giving him a comforting touch before he crossed his arms and shrunk in his seat. Shawn wanted to assure him, to apologize, but instead, he buried his head against Carlton's shoulder and allowed himself to break.

\-----

Shawn wanted to insist that they go back to New York. He needed to see her, needed to check and prove they were lying, needed to have proof in front of him even as unwise as he knew it was. They drove south, out of the blizzard and back into more reasonable climates. He wasn't sure what state they were in when they finally pulled over for the day, wasn't sure where they were going.

Juliet hugged him tightly when they got out of the Jeep, and Shawn could feel her heartbeat as she held onto him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Shawn." He touched her gently, afraid that the slightest pressure put on anything or anyone would lead to a snap, a shatter, an end. He met her eyes, and he was surprised that he didn't hate her, knowing she was comparing his loss with hers. He didn't feel anything, really. Hollow and empty and colder when she pulled away to follow Pierre inside.

For the first time since they'd been reunited, Shawn really faced his best friend, as stable as he could be under these circumstances. Carlton eyed the horizon, but the clouds hid the sun, made the time of day questionable, and that meant they were safe. Yin and Yang would want a perfect kill with no ambiguities. As long as the storm hid the sun's position, they were probably safe.

Gus watched him, expression open and sympathetic. "Hey," Shawn said, his voice raw from the amount of crying he'd done today. Gus nodded, opened his mouth, but Shawn spoke before he could, not wanting to hear Gus's condemning him for bringing him into this mess, to hear that he had, again, ruined everything by not considering the other people involved. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Gus. I never wanted to drag you into this. It was stupid and impulsive and I- I never thought you'd come looking for me." He forced a wide smile. "I thought you learned your lesson about that years ago."

"Yeah," Gus murmured. "Well, apparently not." He closed the distance between them, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry, too, Shawn. This is all my fault."

"No it's not. I led you to us, basically told you how to find-"

"No-"

"Hey, Carlton interrupted as they began to talk over each other. "It's neither of your faults, just the person who pulled the trigger's. Right?" He met Shawn's eyes as both he and Gus turned to look at him. They released each other though they didn't move apart, and Shawn took whatever menial comfort he could from Gus's closeness. "You don't blame me, and I don't blame you, remember? That's the way it works."

"But she's- she's my mom."

"I know," Carlton said. "But that doesn't make your hands any more dirty than mine." He looked between them, expression schooled into a firm scowl. "Got it?" He took one last cautionary look around before turning to go inside. The door clicked closed behind him, leaving Shawn and Gus alone in the cold.

Shawn needed to say something, but every thought brought him back around to the original problem, the image of his mother dying in her apartment. He felt tears race hot down his cold cheeks, but it wasn't until Gus's arm went around him that he let them fall without fighting again. Gus rocked them both slowly and murmured, "I know, Shawn. I know."


	22. Chapter 22

A week after Portland, and Shawn wasn't getting any better. If anything, he withdrew further, staring at the ground, listless and unfocused. He rarely spoke unless he was prompted by Gus, and Carlton knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Gus was the only thing keeping him going. Shawn crowded close to his friend, seeking familiarity, seeking home. Carlton couldn't blame him for it though something in him panged, feeling lost, alone.

Shawn was the best friend Carlton had ever had. Before any of this happened, he'd given up on socialization, on creating bridges between himself and other people. It didn't work. Victoria had been a fluke, a stroke of luck, along with Fenich and Hank. People he got along with were few and far between. But then Shawn had come along and in the months they'd known each other, Carlton had never felt closer to another person.

He could feel the distance between them now, a chasm that Carlton couldn't overcome on his own. It felt petty, and he felt guilty for harboring it.

Even Juliet, who had relied so heavily on him, whose presence made him feel safer and happier himself, spent her time wheedling into Gus and Shawn's confidence. The three of them usually sat together in the back seat, talking together, close where Carlton couldn't hear. The lack of communication left him with a surprising amount of free time, left him alone with his thoughts or, worse, with Despereaux who was as locked out as him.

"What a sight we must be," he mused as Carlton drove. "Florida plates in Kentucky. Three mismatched youths in the backseat." Tapped idly at the armrest between them.

"If anyone's looking that intently, we might have bigger problems on our hands."

"We're lucky no one at the hotels or shops has become suspicious."

Carlton grimaced, "I'm not sure 'lucky' can be at all applied to any part of our situation."

"No," Despereaux mused to himself, "I suppose not."

\-----

Despereaux left the hotel room to smoke, and Carlton followed not long after, the uncomfortable, oppressive silence more than he could handle. It had nothing to do with the way Shawn shrank, or the way he buried his head into Gus's shoulder. Gus teared up often on Shawn's behalf, and Carlton often caught himself looking at the way they touched, how Gus so easily held Shawn's hand, comforted him without a single thought for how it might look or mean.

There was no use for him, no place he could fill to make Shawn's despair any easier. He couldn't offer support or to ease the burden without implying more, and he hated it.

"We haven't heard from them in too long."

Carlton's head jerked up, looking over at Despereaux who took another deep drag of his cigarette. "We're still feeling the effects of last time."

"They're planning something. While Shawn is emotionally compromised, while you're distracted by him, while I, myself, am compromised."

"Nadia."

He flicked his ashes away, a spark flitting through the air. "Precisely." He guiltily avoided Carlton's gaze. "If she shows up, there will be nothing we can do about it."

"You've survived until now."

He laughed, bitterly, "Survived, yes. But that survival hinged upon my ability to run and hide, to get away on my own. Unless I'm to damn the lot of you, I'll be pinned down. Only one of us will survive."

"She hates you that much?"

Despereaux glanced at the butt of his cigarette before turning and crushing it into the ash tray. "It's either love or hate. I fear I shall never know."

Carlton felt something akin to amusement bubble up inside him, a small huff of a laugh escaping him. "You're insufferable."

"Careful," Despereaux said, casting a glance over to him, arching an eyebrow as if to dare him. "You almost sound as if you could like me."

"I could tolerate you."

"I'd accept that, at this rate."

Carlton let it slip by, sighing. "You really think the shit's gonna hit the fan."

"Sooner rather than later."

"We'll be on our guard."

"Are we ever not?"

\-----

"Where are we going?"

Carlton's head jerked up at the sound of Shawn's voice, rarely heard these days, so soft and out of place compared to the person he used to be. His face was pale, hair long and unkempt, flopping into his eyes, helping him hide the way they never rose, rarely met anyone else's.

"Do either of you know?" he demanded with only slightly more energy.

Carlton looked to Despereaux, hating that he didn't have the answers Shawn needed. "East for now," he said. "I was thinking perhaps traveling the length of the Mississippi River or going along Route 66."

"Is this just some kind of weird vacation for you?" Gus hadn't been able to get a good read on most of them. Without Shawn bolstering them up, it seemed as though their collective energy had dropped through the floor. He was paranoid, scared. Carlton understood completely.

"Hardly," Despereaux said, even, calm. He was hard to throw off, a trait Carlton was beginning to begrudgingly appreciate. "But unless anyone has any better suggestions – and I am interested in hearing them – we may as well stick to well-traveled roads where it will be an inconvenience to cause a scene."

"Is that good enough?" Juliet asked, fidgeting uncertainly in her seat.

Despereaux gave a small, one-shouldered shrug. "Probably not."

"Lightly hasn't called us," Shawn said, falling back into his low tone of voice, eyes downcast. "Why?"

"He's holding his cards close to his chest," Despereaux said after a moment of consideration. "He's waiting to see if we're worth the effort he's put into us." Sat back in his seat, a certain defeated slouch to his shoulders that quickly straightened again. "I'm afraid the odds aren't stacked in our favor."

"So..." Gus trailed off, his hands shaking where they rested on the table. "So what?"

"We'll carry on. There's no other option."

Abandoned. Somehow, Carlton hadn't expected it, and it hit him with a dull finality. Lightly had walked away from the table, leaving all his pieces to fend for themselves against Yin and Yang. They wouldn't stand a chance moving haphazardly and without thought, but they couldn't see the entire board to make educated decisions.

"I think staying on well-traveled roads is exactly what they expect us to do." The rest of the table turned to look at Shawn. "Whether it's a preassigned route or from city to city. They don't expect us to hole up anywhere. They don't expect us to try falling off the map again."

"They don't expect it because it's a stupid plan." Despereaux was merciless, but there was something gleaming in his eyes, a spark, a challenge. "Besides, with the hidden wiring, they'll be able to find us in no time."

"They'll be able to find us wherever we go," Juliet said, hope draining with the color from her face.

"They've been able to find us since the start," Shawn said. "They've toyed with us and chased us, but if they wanted this to end, they've had plenty of chances. They're waiting for something."

"An opportune moment?" Despereaux mused. "A grand finale?"

"You said we had to make them give up. If they can track us anywhere we go, if they can follow us no matter what we do, then how? By being inconvenient? They've sunk months into us now." Shawn fidgeted uncertainly, and for what felt like the first time in a week, his eyes sought Carlton's. His own heart traitorously picked up its pace, thudding in his ears. "Running isn't going to be good enough anymore."

"We can't fight," Carlton repeated, the muzzle as restraining as it'd always been, the reminder of his inability to protect even those closest to him. "You know that."

"Then we won't fight. Or run."

"Decided to go quietly into the night?" Despereaux asked, but Shawn didn't look away from Carlton, his eyes lighting up in a way that they hadn't since Portland, life flickering, desperate to be seen, reacted to, ignited.

Carlton hesitated, said, "You want to stand our ground."

"If Yin and Yang were the sort to bow to superior opponents, I would have suggested the same by now," Despereaux said, intervening as Shawn's expression fell. "Shawn, you're attempting to reason with psychopaths."

"For your information, psychopaths are often way more reasonable than anyone gives them credit for."

"Not these," Despereaux said, unamused.

"People will get hurt," Juliet piped up quietly.

"People already get hurt because of us," Shawn said harshly. "They're just spread farther apart."

There was a long silence. Shawn crossed his arms, slouched in his seat, ducked his head so his hair hid his eyes. Carlton wanted to assure him, wanted to pull him out of the depression by any means necessary even if it meant following a stupid plan, but he knew the risks too well. Knew he'd rather have all of them alive and miserable than dead without an escape from the inevitable.

"Has anyone spoken to them?"

Carlton lifted his fingers to indicate, avoiding Gus's eyes the way he always did, guilty in the front of the reminder of Shawn's life before. "Briefly. It wasn't pleasant."

"Me too," Despereaux said. "I'm telling you it's useless to try and speak with them. They're killers who know no remorse, who only want to see you struggle before they kill you. So long as we keep them interested-"

"-They'll keep following us." Gus leaned forward in his seat, engaging without shying away. "Boring, safe – if we can make them lose interest-"

"-They'll just end it." Despereaux interrupted.

"And if they can't?" Gus demanded. "What will they do then?"

A pause, a breath, uncertainty hanging in the air. "It's risky," Despereaux said and cut off the teenagers when they all began to interject. "But no more than anything else," he conceded, looking them all over. "Is this really what you all want to do?" He lifted his eyes to look at Carlton, almost begging for him to see reason. "Laying low at the cabin would have worked because we were defensible. Finding somewhere equally safe would be nigh impossible without Lightly's help."

"But he has no intention of sticking his neck out for us if we don't prove we're worth it," Carlton said, squarely facing Despereaux. "Lightly can go fuck himself. He left us to die, so we don't have to play by his rules."

"You are still bound by the ones given you," he reminded him with an air of boredom. "The object of the game is to run."

"But you were fine sitting still if it meant you had Lightly's approval," Carlton said coldly.

"Very well. Where would you like to settle? Some nice suburb, perhaps meet the neighbors who will likely be killed simply for their proximity and their house's ability to line up a shot?"

There was a quiet gasp, and Carlton dragged his eyes to Juliet. She trembled in her seat, eyes filled with tears that she tried valiantly to suppress. When he looked at Despereaux, the man's expression hadn't changed. He didn't have the heart to look at either Shawn or Gus, to add to the accumulated and memorized trauma. "We'll find someplace quiet and secluded," he said, voice practically a low growl.

"Where we can die out of sight and out of mind," he surmised, and Carlton felt the tension wind tightly in his shoulders, a sneer curl on his lips.

"Do you have a better idea?" Carlton demanded, "Or any real objections?"

"I merely wanted to remind the lot of you that I am meant to be your guide."

Carlton sneered, "And a jackass? Because we got that part loud and clear."

Despereaux's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't bother to refute the assertion. "They've been too quiet since Maine," he said finally, bringing the issue to the forefront of discussion from where it'd been kept carefully hidden away. "They're planning something. We need to be ready."

"Then it may actually be better to stop running for a few days," Gus said, hesitating the way he always did in these discussions, uncertain of his place in the pecking order. "I mean, we spend enough time in close quarters, I know, but devising a plan of action is harder the more things you're trying to do, like driving or keeping lookout for anything suspicious. The less multi-tasking, the more we can focus."

"It will also give them the opportunity to attack if that's what they've been waiting for."

"We can go back and forth with 'what ifs' until the sun goes down," Carlton interrupted with a growl. "Whatever we do, it's risky. Whatever we do, we could die. If we're too tired to run now, imagine what it'll be like in a few more days, in a week or a month." Grimly, he said, "They will not let us rest, so we have to take it for ourselves and take the risk with it."

"And when they strike? Are you prepared for that eventuality?"

Carlton couldn't answer for the rest of them. Out of all of them, his stakes seemed the lowest. His life, these misfits with whom he ran, the people from home he didn't want to kill through his actions or otherwise – he felt more and more disconnected from it all. The helplessness could overwhelm him if he let it.

"Act or react," Shawn said quietly. "Either way, it doesn't matter."

The silence dragged on, the uncertainty and pessimism unvoiced until Despereaux finally decided they needed to get moving again.

Carlton didn't know if there was a different, better, or right answer. In a lot of ways, it felt like Shawn had hit the nail on the head.

\-----

He was minding his own business, standing watch at a rest stop while the other rotated using the bathrooms, when a nervous voice peeped up. "Um, Mr. Lassiter?"

Carlton fought the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't Gus's fault that their circumstances were as tense as they were, that the already-uncertain young man felt the need to address him formally. Instead, he turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows. "You don't have to call me that."

Gus nodded, said, "I know; it is a little weird, though, you know?"

Carlton felt the inappropriate indecency he'd invited into his and Shawn's relationship standing out starkly, a cold reminder of his impropriety. "Yes," he said stiffly. "I do."

After a moment of hesitation, Gus ventured forward, speaking softly, "I wanted to talk to you about Shawn."

Carlton clenched his jaw, tension winding through his shoulders. He knew this would happen eventually, when the worst of the excitement died down and Gus put two and two together. "What all has he told you?" Even in the face of everything they'd been through, all the uncertainty that lay ahead, he wouldn't overstep his boundaries, wouldn't implicate Shawn further than he himself was willing to.

"He hasn't told me anything," Gus said, sounding affronted until he quickly followed it up with a plea. "To be honest, I don't really want the details."

"Fine," Carlton said. He forced his eyes off the ground, swallowing around apologies and explanations. "Say what you want to say, then."

Gus's eyes searched his face, narrowing as he shifted uncomfortably. Then, his shoulders squared, and he lifted his head, and blurted out, "You need to talk to him."

"What?" Carlton's response was immediate, reflexive.

"I don't know what all happened between the two of you – and, again, I really don't want to – but Shawn's scared and worried, and if you held him together for these last few months, then you may be the only one who can help him now."

A bitter laugh caught in his chest. He snorted as he crossed his arms. "Because that sounds like a great idea."

Gus pressed his lips together, clearly deliberating before he demanded, "Why not?"

Carlton did roll his eyes this time, "Now that his boyfriend's back in the picture-"

"Woah!" Gus almost shouted over him. Carlton took a step back into the Jeep, hating the instincts that told him to run, to hide, all of it ingrained from the months of stress and avoidance. "Wait, wait, wait -- what?" Gus stared at him, gaping. "What gave you that- I mean, I'm not- We're not even- We've never been-"

"Finish a sentence!" Carlton snapped, suddenly feeling uncertain, swaying in place as his hands curled at his sides to ground him.

Gus took a steadying breath and said, "I'm not Shawn's boyfriend. We're best friends and have been for almost our entire lives, which is why I know he needs you right now, even if he's not in a place right now where he can say it."

Even suspecting that Gus's babbling might have taken this turn, Carlton hadn't expected it to be true. It'd been wishful thinking at its finest, and Carlton found his eyes searching Gus's face for a lie. "Just think about it. Please."

"Why?" Carlton asked before he could stop himself.

Gus looked away, considering before he brought his eyes back to Carlton. "I'm scared out of my mind that every day is going to be my last, and I know Shawn's the only way we can escape. He's impossible and reckless sometimes, but..." He trailed off, expression softening before he continued, "Every time he gets me into something, he gets me back out again. If he keeps drawing into himself, if he keeps hiding, then I'm afraid he's already given up, and that's scarier than everything else combined. Shawn never gives up when it matters."

Carlton nodded slowly. "What makes you think Shawn wants to talk to me?"

Gus eyed him. "I don't know what Shawn wants, but I can make an educated guess at what he needs. Juliet and I aren't able to get to him, and Despereaux doesn't even seem to want to try."

Carlton didn't dare to ask how obvious he'd been. It was bad enough that he was pining for a goddamn teenager.

"I'll talk to him." Added, quickly, "If we ever get the chance."

Gus nodded. "Thank you, Carlton."

There was a pause after his name before he seemed to realize that Carlton much preferred it to 'Mr. Lassiter.'

\-----

The opportunity came faster than he anticipated. They decided to stay in a dingy hotel in the outskirts of Memphis, taking two rooms next to each other with a door connecting them together. Despereaux and Juliet made themselves scarce as Shawn dozed fitfully on one of the beds. Gus met Carlton's eyes, raised his eyebrows, and Carlton found himself nodding, mouth dry as Gus stood and padded quietly away, leaving the two of them alone.

Carlton let him rest for a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed and feeling his chest tighten at the look on Shawn's face. Even his sleep was restless, face screwed up in concentration as he clutched for a pillow, buried his head into it. He hadn't cried much for the last day, but his eyes had taken on that blank look that Carlton had seen on Juliet after Ewan died, on the faces of witnesses to horrible crimes, on victims.

He wondered if he didn't look like that from the outside now, too.

Shawn sat up suddenly, biting back a yell before he turned wide, scared eyes to Carlton. "Where's Gus?"

"He's in the next room. He's okay."

"You're sure?" Shawn demanded, struggling to get to his feet, but Carlton's hand shot out, landed on his shoulder, steadied him.

"I saw him less than five minutes ago. He's with Despereaux and O'Hara. They'd let us know if something happened." Shawn opened his mouth to protest, and Carlton said, "You can't be next to him 24/7, and even if you are, it doesn't mean he'll be safe."

Shawn's eyes fell down, and Carlton leaned in close. "Spencer, look at me."

"No," he said, petulant.

"Then listen to me."

"There's no reason to. I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I put Gus in danger, I killed my mom, I-"

Carlton couldn't stand it. He reached out and pulled Shawn into a hug, hands gripping him tightly, fingers digging into his shoulders, the rare outward display of affection temporarily stilling Shawn's self-deprecating ramble. His body trembled uncertainly against Carlton's own, and then his hands were gripping him back, pulling him closer.

He held him for long moments, ignoring his own lack of patience, his own residual guilt, his own fears and focusing on giving Shawn the stability that Gus apparently thought he could provide. Finally, Shawn's arms loosened, and Carlton let go of him, leaning back to meet his eyes.

"Mistakes happen. They're devastating, and there'd be more reason for concern if you weren't upset about this." Shawn sniffled pitifully and drew back to himself, crossing his arms. "But that doesn't mean that Guster hates you, or O'Hara, or..." Carlton hesitated to say it. "Or me."

Shawn looked up at him through his bangs. "Guess we killers gotta stick together," he said dully, but that look was back in his eyes, demanding something and promising more if it was sated.

"Survivors do," Carlton corrected him with a grim scowl.

Shawn blinked, and some of the light came back into his eyes. A small smile twitched on his lips, and he nodded. "Thanks, Lassie."

A long-suffering sigh tumbled out of him before he could stop it. Shawn's smile widened a tick. It was enough to make Carlton feel calm, like he could breathe for the first time since Portland himself. Shawn reached out and patted his shoulder. "Hate to break it to you, but I think sexy times are on hold until Gus doesn't need to cuddle me like a teddy bear in order to sleep."

"I think 'sexy times'-" and then he stopped himself, shook his head. Backtracked to start again, "We're not having sex until I can guarantee that we're safe and alone."

"I got you to say sexy times."

"If you want any in your foreseeable future, you'll forget it ever happened."

Shawn gave a small laugh, smile weakening though it remained. And that was, certainly, a start.

\-----

They made the rounds and everyone got ready to leave before dawn in their grim routine. Loaded up the Jeep with only the occasional yawn piercing the silence, and Carlton and Shawn checked the Jeep for any stray wires, any proof of tampering. Lightly had been certain that they wouldn't use car bombs. They checked every morning anyway, shining flashlights in each other's eyes from opposite sides of the Jeep.

"Load up," Carlton said, tapping the side of the Jeep as he tucked his light away. Doors opened and closed again. Carlton slid into the driver's seat, watching as Despereaux left their keys at the front desk. Turned the key, letting the engine rev to life, lights glaring into the lobby.

Despereaux turned and shielded his eyes from the light, hand up, palm turned out as he grimaced.

A bullet shattered through the window and into his hand, blood blossoming from the wound in a moment as another opened in his shoulder. The reaction to the first shot was probably the only thing that saved his head from being blown apart. Shawn was shouting and fumbling with his seatbelt by the time Carlton registered the sound of gunfire.

He turned to make sure the sun was down and saw her striding across the parking lot, rifle brought up as she lined up another shot. Her black hair whipped in the winter's morning's chill, and a third bullet exited the chamber with a flash.

Despereaux was gone from sight. Carlton had no way of knowing if he'd been hit for a third time.

Everything caught up to him in a sudden rush of movement, in the thundering race of his heart, and he almost pulled the Jeep into reverse when he heard Shawn shouting from outside the car: "Put the gun down!"


	23. Chapter 23

Shawn saw the bullet pierce through the glass, through Pierre, leaving a sickening, gaping hole in the palm of his hand. At the sight of blood, his hands began to move practically of their own accord, fighting with the seatbelt, against common sense as he watched helplessly as another shot hit.

By the time he'd fallen out of the Jeep and into the biting morning cold, Pierre had disappeared from view, collapsed either for his own safety or because he hadn't been able to hold himself up.

Shawn refused to think 'dead'. If he didn't think it, it wouldn't be true. It couldn't be. He'd just seen him, smiled at him with the wavering confidence that maybe, maybe they would be okay.

He was unraveling so quickly, unable to tell where each moment ended and the next began. His gun was in his hands, hefted, aimed at Nadia, cold, cocked. "I said 'Put the gun down'." His voice sounded like it came from another time, another person, from a universe that wasn't fucked, where his life had gone the way it was supposed to. Authoritative and strong, confident that he'd be able to pull the trigger.

He had to be, didn't he? He had to be willing, had to- If it came down to it, if it meant her or Pierre...

"You're running out of time," she murmured, never once looking away. Her aim was steady. His was, too. His hands hadn't shook since the first time Henry had put a BB gun in his hands and had him aim at a paper target. "They will be here soon."

"You're helping them," Shawn said, desperation pitching his voice higher.

"I am settling an old debt. Nothing more."

"They invited you to do this. The- the same sort of people who did this to _all of us_ , and you just accepted, because...? Because?" She didn't answer, sliding her feet forward in a smooth step. "Why?!"

"Get in the car," she instructed, voice calm and cold. "You will not shoot me."

"Why?" Shawn aimed at her head, remembering Ewing, how quickly he'd collapsed, how it had only taken a moment, a single moment for Carlton to pull the trigger, how he hadn't even _considered_ \- how he hadn't _hesitated_. "Why are you doing this?"

"I must."

"Bullshit!"

Nadia took another step. "You cannot understand, but you will understand this: if you are here when the sun rises, you will die. All of your lives will be forfeit, and the game will end."

In the corner of his eye, he could see curtains fluttering, lights flickering to life. Someone had probably already called the police. "So- So what? You expect me to just walk away?!"

"No," she said calmly. "I expect you to run."

Anger rushed through him in a sudden wave. His hands moved, lowered, aimed. A finger curled around the trigger, the explosion deafening in the empty morning, piercing through the haze that clouded his own head. Recoil shuddered up his arms, locked into his shoulders, and he released the breath he'd been holding.

Nadia's rifle dropped onto the pavement, her leg giving out beneath her, blood pooling from her knee.

Shawn's head snapped up at the distant sound of sirens wailing, and he looked frantically towards the office. "Pierre," he breathed, cold air and panic constricting his chest. There wasn't enough time. "I'm sorry."

He crashed back into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed behind him. The moment he was settled, the Jeep lurched into reverse, tires pealing on the pavement as it sprang forward out of the parking lot and onto the road.

He waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Condemnation, reminding him that he'd left his friend to die. Praise for making the right decision. To wake up in his own bed at home in Santa Barbara where he could tell everyone 'You were there, and you were there, and you were there' without any of this having been real.

The cool metal of the barrel grazed against his scalp, both hands clutching at his head as a fresh wave of raw emotion surged through him, tearing him apart from the inside out.

The first one to break the silence was Gus, murmuring, "The gun, Shawn."

He flipped the safety on and shoved it into the glove compartment as if that alone could undo what he'd done, allow him to go back to that moment, move faster, make a decision, _save him_ , but it only left him staring wild-eyed at the dashboard, trembling as his breath rattled in his chest, a sob building.

Pierre had taken care of him, had been there for him without flinching, without fail. Had believed the best in him, and he- he had-

_Pierre's fingers were light on his chin, forceful enough to make him lift his head, meet his eyes, without harming him. Giving him the option of turning away if he couldn't face the truth. "Of all the people there are to die for, I believe you to be one of the most worthy."_

Shawn made a choked noise, pained and full of despair as he punched the dashboard as hard as he could, and again with his other hand, needing the pain, needing to feel something. Again and again and again until he felt empty, numb.

As they pulled onto the highway, Carlton finally spoke, his voice even, calm, "Seatbelt."

That seemed like something Shawn could manage. He clicked the belt into place and curled his bruised fingers around the strap at his chest, holding on, clinging as he closed his eyes and pushed the world away from himself, wished desperately that he could stop existing.

\-----

The silence dragged on, unbroken, for hours. They climbed out of the delta and into the hills, and Shawn could only sink deeper into himself, reliving that moment of panic, the split second after he'd made his decision when he knew he was going to walk away without helping Pierre, without killing Nadia.

He may as well have pulled the trigger himself.

"We have to go back," he mumbled, barely aware that he was actually speaking. "I have to- I-"

"Shawn," Gus's hand touched his shoulder. Shawn jerked away, turning to face them all, eyes wide and wild.

"I can fix it. I _have to_ -"

"It's too late," Juliet said, and Shawn shook his head furiously. But before he could continue arguing, she turned her head to look at him, blue eyes punching the air out of his lungs. "You made a choice."

"I chose to let him die." His hands gnarled, one on the back of his seat, the other on the armrest.

"Or: you chose for us to live."

"But we weren't in any danger!"

"Uh," Gus cleared his throat. "She seemed pretty sure that the hunters wouldn't be far behind the sunrise."

"But I still could have _tried_!"

"No." Juliet looked back out the window at the passing scenery, the forests that stretched on over the next hill, the dried, dead grass that lined the edges of the highway. "If you'd decided to- Nothing would have pulled you away."

Shawn took an unsteady breath, needing to shout, needing to scream until he was empty.

"Ewan," Juliet began, her voice hitching on his name, breath fogging the glass. "He was chosen like you. He was supposed to be heading off to basic training, and he told us he did, but..." She shook her head slightly. "He showed up one night. In my room. He'd gotten in using his spare key, and he made me pack up everything I could because we were going on a vacation."

"The next morning, it was all over the news. How I had gone missing, how our- our _parents_..."

She took a moment, breathing deeply until she was finally calm, able to speak with only the slightest waver in her voice: "He made that choice. To save me. To- to give them up. We- we hid, but we didn't run. His hunter surrendered because they had nothing else to take from him."

Shawn wondered how she could possibly have more tears to cry, more sadness to bring into herself, how she wasn't already as broken as he felt, scattered into a million fractured pieces that could never, ever be put back together. "That- That was his choice. And you've made yours."

"For whatever little it's worth," Carlton spoke gently, "he would think you made the right one."

Shawn turned to look at him, glaring. "How can you say that?"

"Because he made his choice, too. They told him the consequences of not turning us in, and he accepted them. If he wanted to save his own hide more than he wanted you alive, it never would have come to that."

"He thought we could all make it!"

"No, Shawn. I don't think he did."

"How would you know? You couldn't even stand him! You- you never trusted him. You're probably glad he's gone." There was a breath of silence, the pounding of his heart so loud to his own ears that he felt sure the others must have heard it, must have been able to feel the way he was unraveling. "Aren't you _glad_ , Lassie?"

Carlton spared him a glance, meeting his eyes as he said, "No." Shawn's breath was sharp, every muscle in his body going tense as he restrained himself from attacking the driver. "We don't... didn't agree on many things. But I never wanted him dead."

Shawn could hardly breathe, the air feeling heavy in his chest, tightening in his lungs. "Then why didn't you help?"

"There wasn't time."

"Bullshit. If it'd been me-"

"The situation would have been different." Carlton's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "If your places had been switched, Despereaux would have distracted her while I got you out, like he did in Dallas." A pit opened in Shawn's stomach. "But they weren't. You were negotiating; you were in control. If she saw me attempting to help, she would've either disabled the Jeep to make us more concerned about how we were getting away from Yin and Yang, or she would've rushed in to finish the job before she was outnumbered."

"I made a mistake," he surmised miserably. "I should have- I could've distracted her."

"No."

"But you _said_ -!"

"Despereaux was her target. If he had been on the outside, he could have used that to his advantage. You weren't. If you'd tried to do the same thing, she could've ignored you without worry. You did the best you could."

"I should have killed her then." Carlton didn't answer. Desperation gnarled in his chest. "I should have." Looked to the backseat, to Juliet who was staring resolutely out the window, to Gus who avoided his eyes. "Right?" He leaned forward, clutching the back of his chair. "Gus?"

"I agree with Jules," he said finally, his voice wavering. "You made a choice, Shawn. For us. I can't say what you should or shouldn't have done, but I think..." He raised his eyes tentatively. "I think your dad would be proud of you."

He felt himself marginally relax, taking some form of comfort in the knowledge of how _wrong_ his best friend was. Henry wouldn't be proud of him – not for letting Nadia live, not for leaving Pierre behind, not for anything he'd done on this unwanted journey. He'd endangered Gus, inadvertently gotten Ewan killed, not to mention his own mother. If Henry ever found out about any of it, he'd disown him.

At the end of this, what was there?

He'd scarcely allowed himself to think that it would be over, to think far ahead into a dreamland where he wasn't terrified and constantly on the run. Now that the thought had caught him, Shawn couldn't seem to escape from it.

He sank into his seat, staring out the windshield at the winding road.

What was there worth living for?

\-----

Claustrophobia clawed at his lungs, demanding that he crack the window, the door, get some air, get _out_ as cars sandwiched together on narrow roads. They drove slowly, police lights blinking as they passed the wrecks of the careless.

His eyes met an officer's, and Shawn somehow, somehow resisted the urge to scream, to confess, to take the blame for any of it, all of it, so long as it meant getting away from the pack of Pierre's cigarettes in the armrest, away from the silence that choked him, away from all of this.

He didn't know what was worse; that everyone refused to speak, or the idea that someone would, that they'd break the silence and he'd have to try and pull himself out of his spiral to act like nothing was wrong when everything – _everything_ – was.

By the time they pulled over in Little Rock, it felt like days had passed. They got tentatively out of the Jeep to stretch their legs. Shawn supposed he should be grateful for the shorter days, but he wasn't. It was a temporary relief and a grim reminder that they had a limited amount of time before the days began to get longer, before Yin and Yang would have almost unparalleled access to them after they'd spent months already on the run.

If they hadn't earned freedom by then, chances were, they weren't going to make it.

He reluctantly released Gus's hand and sidled up to Carlton in the sparse crowd, murmuring, "Lassie," until he got his attention. Meeting his eyes without flinching was harder than it should have been, the paranoia that he was being judged driving him as mad as the rest of this stupid game that they were never meant to win. "Call Lightly tonight. I know he's- we've been waiting to hear from him, but we can't. Even if he tells us he's ditching us – that'll give us something to work with."

Carlton nodded slowly. "He might have definitive answers about-"

"Yeah," Shawn said, looking away. "Probably. I mean, he knows everything." Laughed bitterly as he crossed his arms. "Right?"

"He knows enough. If we're lucky, he might decide to keep sharing with us."

His throat tightened. "And if he doesn't?"

"Then we'll find our own way out."

There was a confidence in his voice that Shawn didn't trust, that he couldn't believe in, not when today had been yet another miserable day, daisy-chained along with so many other miserable days, weeks, months, until it felt like this had been his entire life, like it would always be.

"How can you believe-?"

"I have to." Shawn aimed a glare up at him, only to find Carlton's eyes facing up, scanning the crowd for potential danger, looking back to check on Gus and Juliet. "The three of you – you can give up as much as you want. Hold on to the hurt if that's what keeps you going. That's what you do, sometimes, as a uniform. You hold on to your anger at the injustices you see, the scum that walks free; you keep yourself going through spite believing you can make a change, that it's the only way to make a change."

"Then you grow out of that and realize that pretending makes it all better?"

"No," Carlton said, mouth twisted into a scowl. "It wears you down. It feels like it's killing you slowly, some kind of cancer at the very center of who you are. Some people, they keep holding onto it, and they break in other ways. I was breaking when they picked me. But at the end of the day, hating them isn't going to get us through this. Someone has to believe that we'll get to the end, or one day, we're all going to give up, and that'll be the end. Someone has to have hope."

Shawn gave a dry, half-hearted laugh. "Not exactly the most inspiring speech."

"I know." Carlton spared a glance down at him. "But Despereaux..." He paused at the look that crossed Shawn's face, too raw and hurt for him to hide quickly. "He had that hope. He could keep driving us even when none of us felt like we could get out of bed. So someone has to step up and believe that one day we can stop running, and I can't risk that whoever else decides to try gives up. So it's gonna be me."

Shawn closed his eyes, fighting off the fresh wave of emotion that hearing Pierre's name had rushed through him.

There were arms around him, pulling him closer for just a moment. "You never should have had to make that choice, Spencer. Don't hate yourself – hate them for forcing it onto you, hate them for turning your life into some fucked-up party game. You don't deserve this."

"Maybe I did. Maybe that's why they chose-" It escaped him in a rush.

"No." Carlton led him back, brushed his long bangs away from his face. "They chose you because they wanted to break you. Because they're sadistic, cowardly bastards."

Shawn took a steadying breath, cracked open his eyes. "Cowardly?"

"If they took you in a fair fight, they wouldn't stand a chance, and they knew it."

Shawn wasn't sure he believed him, but he felt like he could breathe slightly easier, like his heart wasn't trying to twist out of his chest.

Carlton continued, "We'll call Lightly tonight. And no matter what he tells us, we're going to make a plan and get through this. Any and all of us that are left standing."

He nodded numbly, trying to feel the conviction, the courage that Carlton tried so desperately to help him find. Instead, he found a new trove of anxiety, his head snapping up to where he last saw the other two. "Gus and Jules-?"

They were a few feet behind them, walking in stony silence, arms linked and both clearly trying not to seem as if they were eavesdropping on the conversation happening in front of them. Carlton's hands fell away, and Shawn rushed over to them, eyes darting around them all, looking for signs of danger.

The sun sank below the horizon, and even then, Shawn still felt like he was suffocating.

\-----

The phone rang. It rang and rang, the four of them sitting on the two hotel beds as the speaker light blinked. Shawn focused on it and not on counting the number of times the phone rang, how long it took to get an answer. If he kept count, it would have done more than irritate him. This went beyond petty, childish; lives were on the line. Answers were, too. And he needed answers. He _needed_ to know.

If he kept count of the rings (ten), it would have made him (eleven) so angry that he wouldn't be able to think (twelve). He'd lose his mind. He'd start pacing, restless and desperate for some outlet for the sudden onset of rage.

Click.

The sound of the dial tone.

"Maybe they got to him?" Gus suggested quietly.

"No." Shawn knew they hadn't, that their hunters would have sent a message to tell them that they were now truly alone. "Call again." If he kept his body moving, it would let him control the anger, the helplessness that had finally pierced through his skin and cut him down to the bone, down to the core of himself.

Carlton obliged, and the ringing began again. "Do you know anyone else?" he asked gently of Juliet.

"No. Not any way of contacting them, at least. Almost everyone we met was on the move."

Shawn grimaced, closed his eyes and blocked out the world for a moment.

Except when he did, there was Pierre's face. His mustache and pink cigarettes, his lilting voice. There was a blossom of blood in the palm of his hand, spreading. Shawn fell out of the car and spared a look towards the office as he drew his gun. Pierre was gone from sight, and the wall behind him?

The wall was clean. No splatter of blood or brains, no gore. Just wallpaper with a visible seam right behind the broken window.

There was an audible click, the drone of the dial tone, and Shawn's eyes opened.

"He could still be alive."

"Shawn," Carlton murmured disapprovingly, likely expecting him to beg to return to Memphis.

"No, I mean... she didn't shoot him in the head. If we stalled her at all, and we did, he might have been able to run or hide, escape somehow."

Carlton watched him with a furrow in his brow as Shawn crossed the room and put the phone back in its cradle. "So?"

"If he's alive, he'll fight for us. If not..." His breathing hitched. "Either way. We have to keep going, right?"

"Right..." Carlton prompted.

"So we keep going. We wanted to hide out, and we're in fucking Ar-kansas."

"Shawn-" Gus began to scold, and it made him almost smile for the first time that day, the familiarity bringing him comfort even if he knew he'd be getting a lecture about the state's nomenclature later.

"The Natural State, right, Gus?" He looked over at him, and Gus nodded solemnly. "So cabin rentals – they're probably a pretty common thing at, like, any state park. And if there's trouble there, we might be able to rely on them-"

"To die for us?" Juliet demanded, her voice soft but unyielding.

"To help us. If Lightly decides to get in contact with us, he can. And if not, we'll figure out where to go from there if we decide not to stay hunkered down."

"Shawn," Gus said, standing and walking to him, meeting his eyes, undoubtedly reading into his expression. "Are you all right?"

"No. But they're not gonna wait until I am. And I'm not gonna give them the satisfaction of wearing me down." He cracked a grin, feral, angry at the world for putting him in this position, for putting them all through hell. "If they want us, we're gonna give them hell." Glanced away to Carlton, peering at him through his bangs. "Right, partner?"

Carlton gave him a grim, determined nod. "Right."


End file.
